


We've Not Yet Lost All Our Graces

by Muffins



Category: Hunger Games Series - All Media Types, Hunger Games Trilogy - Suzanne Collins
Genre: Additional Warnings In Author's Note, F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-11
Updated: 2014-04-03
Packaged: 2018-01-08 09:40:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 33,107
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1131095
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Muffins/pseuds/Muffins
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Based off Tumblr user mockingjoniss’ prompt: Johanna hearing Katniss’ screams through Jabberjays.  Except made into a multi-chapter fic about Johanna & Katniss in District Thirteen, eventually including the prompt. I play with the canon time & events a bit. Mostly Mature themes & content. May go to explicit.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Paint the Silence

**Author's Note:**

> I haven’t written fiction in a while and got a bit out-of-hand with the prompt (in a good way) and decided to write a multi-chapter fic instead, with that prompt weaved into the middle. I will try my best to update as frequently as possible, but I have a busy life and I’m a meticulous writer. Enjoy! :)
> 
> Trigger Warnings: Domestic abuse, drug abuse, language.
> 
> Disclaimer: I’m not Suzanne Collins and I never wrote The Hunger Games trilogy or directed the movies. Dang. Also, the title is a lyric from Lorde’s “Team”, which I was also not cool enough to write. And, I don't own any of the songs or lyrics referenced in my chapter titles.

 

“Did you really love him?”

The question cuts through the dark silence in the room.

Katniss is used to sleeping light these days. “Who?”  
“The fact that I even have to ask is ridiculous.” Katniss can practically feel Johanna’s familiar eyeroll punctuating the question.  
“Oh. Peeta.”  
“Yeah, your Capitol Loverboy, Everdeen.” Johanna says as she moves onto her side to turn on the bedside lamp. The morphling she shot into her arm just after dinner is beginning to lose its desired effect. And if she can’t sleep, she doesn’t want to be alone with her thoughts.

“I don’t know.” She hesitates, “I care about him a lot… but not in… I don’t know.” Katniss is shocked by her own honesty—albeit her unsure honesty—and Johanna’s brazen attitude. She quickly reminds herself of their first face-to-face interaction; Johanna stripping herself of the confining dress made to look like tree bark, its collar branching out around her neck, poising itself to choke her. No wonder she stripped it off; after the Games, it’s just a struggle to breathe. Still, Katniss thought, it was quite the first impression. Brazen, indeed.

“He’s very… sweet. Caring.” A textbook description—anyone would say the same of him, she thinks. She props herself up to face Johanna. “I don’t deserve how he treats me.” Haymitch told her this just before the Quell, _‘You could live a hundred times and never be good enough for that boy.’_  She ripped the bottle from his hand and took a swig of the amber liquid, which burnt her throat and chest upon impact. She knew he was right. She wasn’t the type to lead anyone on, but despite her feelings, or lack thereof—Peeta was familiar, he was someone she knew with a family who needed him, regardless of what he thought. They needed to survive somehow.

“I don’t think anyone deserves to choked out.” Johanna laughs, “Actually… I could think of a few people” She continues, raising an eyebrow.  
Katniss looks down at her pillow and breathes in, exasperated. Johanna always seems to know how to push her buttons.  
“I mean… before.” Her mind rushes around to all the times he helped her; when he had faith in her. Unlike now.  
Johanna pulls Katniss out of her thoughts, “What’s so special about him?” She asks, looking down at the blanket, rubbing the corner between her index finger and thumb. She can’t stand to look Katniss in the eye.

“He takes care of me.” She remembered Peeta bursting into her room as she screamed into the night. “I’m so used to taking care of everyone else around me.”  
“Sounds like someone has Mommy issues.”  
“You know what Johanna? If you’re going to ask all this personal shit of me, steal my morphling, and pretend like you know me, the least you could do is not be a complete asshole and make fun of me after everything I say.” Katniss turns onto her side, her back facing Johanna. “You can turn out the light now.” This is why she didn’t attempt to get close to people, she thought. Though spilling everything out to Johanna was unlike anything she had ever felt; it was easy. She never had a female friend she was particularly close with. There was Madge, who seemed the most like her from the girls in her class, but they never truly clicked the way best friends should. There was always a hesitation to tell her the things that mattered, as if Madge could never truly understand her or her family. It wasn’t her fault, it wasn’t anyone’s fault. But maybe it was because she could see Johanna’s wall that hers was able to crumble so easily. She wasn’t sure what the reason was, but knew that it was easy for it to fall when they spoke—though, at times like this, she only wanted to piece it back together.

Johanna reaches for the light, but focuses on the long, wavy hair strewn on the contrasting bright white pillow across from her bed. The curve of Katniss’s neck, her body moving slightly with her breaths. She snaps out of her brief trance as she turns the knob once, twice, off.

She never says the right thing. Always alluding to a secret, retorting with a sarcastic phrase, or saying the one thing she wasn’t supposed to. Momma always told her, “Jo, if you ain’t got something nice to say, don’t say anything at all.” But as much as she tried, the wrong words always fell out her mouth, whether she really meant them or not. Sometimes it was easier to say something mean to frighten a potential friend away than say something meaningful and get close to anyone.

One of the two people to ever challenge her behavior was Finnick, whom Johanna had grown fond of since meeting him at a Victor’s celebration. She laughed in his face when he walked up to her, playing the same “I’m-the-sexiest-man-in-the-room-and-everyone-knows-it-including-me” shtick. What she liked about him was how he never took himself seriously—ever. Johanna meant to seem tough when she laughed at him after that first interaction, but he only made fun of himself right back. He surprised Johanna. She liked that. And when she found out what Snow had put him up to—that he was prostituting himself for him, she confided that he asked the same of her.

She remembered the damp spring morning President Snow showed up at her doorstep in the District Seven Victor’s Village; the roses the gardeners planted during the final building stages—a design required by Snow, she was sure—had finally bloomed. He paced around her while she sat in a chair in the middle of her unused office, _‘You don’t have to take male callers one-hundred percent of the time, if that’s not your… preferred taste.’_ She swears she can smell his breath now, the distinct smell of stomach acid and the irony twinge of blood hot on the back of her ear. He was right, partially, but she didn’t want any part of it, whatsoever.

It was no secret that she liked girls—unlike the old world, it wasn’t something that particularly mattered in most of Panem; especially in the District Seven, where women were expected to hold their own with men and the gender roles were blurred. Not every woman worked in the lumber field, but as soon as Johanna was allowed to work she picked up a seasonal job as an apprentice syrup tapper at the local tree farm. It was there that she met Rosalie Moore, the foreman’s daughter. She was a year above Johanna in school—sixteen at the time—and Johanna was her trainee. Rosalie was the only person before Finnick to make her challenge the cynical way she thought and how she saw the world.

After a few weeks, Johanna became the fastest tapper on the farm next to Rosie. On their lunch breaks, Johanna found herself laughing like she never had before. From those few weeks working side-by-side, Johanna knew that Rosie’s mother had died when she was young (but she didn’t probe any further), what she wanted most of all was to open a restaurant serving comfort food, and that her father and stepmother put far too much pressure on her to keep the farm going after they passed. When they did this, she said, she liked to she escape into the evergreen trees. After the day she introduced her secret spot to Johanna, their lunch-time tree-climbing sessions became standard practice. And for the first time, Johanna shared that she got the job to get out of her house and away from her family, if only for a month or two. When Rosie sprained her ankle coming down from a tree in mid-March, their last lunch together was spent on the ground with a spile and bucket hanging between them instead of branches and pine needles. Although she shouldn’t have been working, she prepared a feast for them, complete with a thick stew, cornbread, and spiked mulled cider in a flask. Johanna liked that she was so caring. She always asked how she was doing, and genuinely meant it, too. She never felt as though she got the same attention from anyone else, certainly not from her parents. The spiked cider gave them an extra dose of warmth and silliness in the chilled late-winter air. Johanna noticed the pink tint coming through Rosie’s caramel-toned cheeks and wondered how pink her cheeks must have looked. 

“So, you’ve been working here for a couple of months now,” Rosie started, “have you ever actually tasted the maple sap before it’s syrup?”  
“No, I haven’t.” Johanna suddenly felt silly for still having very little knowledge about the process. She looked into Rosie’s green eyes, very aware of how close she was to them and made the space between them just a little bit wider. “What’s it like?”  
Rosie reached for her glove and pulled it off, exposing her slender, tan fingers just before she dipped one into the bucket between them. She extended her arm and wiped her sap-laden finger onto Johanna’s bottom lip.  
“Hey! Why did you do th—” but before she could finish, Rosie’s lips were on hers and Johanna fell onto the leaves beneath them, tasting the sweet liquid and feeling the intense pressure between their lips. It was her first kiss, never mind with a girl. She only hoped she was doing it right.

After what seemed like only a few seconds but must have been minutes, Rosie pulled back, licking the sap from her lip.  
“I, uh… I hope that wasn’t too… forward?” Johanna laughed at Rosie’s timid tone—she had never known her to be insecure, a feeling Johanna was all too familiar with.  
“No. No. I like you too.” Johanna said as her woolen-covered hand made it’s way over to Rosie’s.

 

So when she declined Snow’s offer years later in a rather aggressive way—perhaps _‘Go fuck yourself, shit breath’_ wasn’t the best way to say it—he eventually took his rage out on her already distant, broken family, and made sure to include the Moore’s. Before even knowing about District Thirteen, Johanna and Finnick had spent hours talking about ways to destroy Snow, never expecting an uprising like the present.

When she first met Katniss, she was disgusted by her, though even she knew she had no reason to be. She judged her based on what the Capitol said—how they framed her precious love, though even she knew, deep down, that it was a survival tactic. She remembers how people called her a fraud, a cheater and a hack for how she won her Games—faking everyone into thinking she was weak until she had her axe in their skull or her hands around their neck. It’s our natural instinct to want to survive, and in such an altered reality such as the Games… does it matter how you survive? Who was she to judge anyone else’s will?

But maybe, the reason she truly couldn’t stand her, was because she was reminded of Rosalie’s immense kindness.

 

The covers rustle as the thoughts race through her head. She sighs loudly, “I’m sorry.” She looks up at the stark white ceiling, illuminated only by the clock on the nightstand between the two beds. “I’m not used to this whole friend thing.”

“Well, you could start by not being such a…”  
“Bitch?” Johanna interrupts, “I get that a lot.”

Katniss rolls onto her back, staring at the same ceiling, looking at the deep orange glow projected. Peeta would like that orange.  
“He used to crawl into my bed whenever I would have nightmares about the arena. Of Snow…”  
“That sounds nice.” Johanna says softly, almost a whisper. A whimper, even. A longing sound that fills up the dead air in the room.  
“Do you have dreams of the arena?” Katniss continues.  
“No. I don’t dream. I never have.” Childhood memories flood her brain. Her father, belt wrapped around his bicep, a morphling needle exiting a bulging vein, his body finally relaxing—strung out on the couch. She must have been six or seven, enough to know what he was doing was not normal dad behavior. But it was normal enough to her. She continues the memory, as it was reenacted many times afterward. Her mother coming home from the store, arms dragged down with bags, dropping them at the sight of her husband. The milk in the burlap bag bursts under pressure. Her mom scoops her up, although she is a bit big to be picked up easily, and puts her in the kitchen. She watches it all, peeking out from behind a doorframe. The milk leeches itself into the rug great-grandma made; the sounds of slurred screams; the sound of a palm meeting cheek.  
“I’m kind of grateful that I don’t.”

Johanna didn’t need the games to give her nightmares. Between her parents and Rosalie… she had enough.

“I wouldn’t wish them upon my worst enemy—y’hear that, _Mason_?!.” Katniss blusters out with an exaggerated northern twang. Johanna sits up, grabs the spare pillow on her bed and throws it across the room. “That is not what I sound like, Everdeen!” She tries to keep a straight face, a feigned attempt at anger, but she loses control when the pillow meets Katniss’s face, who got up just a bit too late to deflect the attack.

 

The laughter peters out and a few moments pass as the women catch their breath.

“Have you ever been in love?”

A beat.

 “Love is weird.” Before she’s even asked to explain, “’Night, Everdeen.”

 

Moving onto her right side, she reaches for the bundle under her pillow. She digs her nail into the thin leaf and quietly inhales the fresh pine scent and presses the needles to her fingertips, leaving pin points in her flesh, thinking of the girl who picked them for her.


	2. Tymps

Katniss wakes with a startle, looking at the clock—3:58—her chest heaves in and out, her fingers throbbing as she crumples the duvet in her sweaty palms. A sudden touch, cold fingers land down on her shoulder blade, sending goose bumps all over her sweaty body. Her arm flings up—a reactionary move—her hand meeting square with Johanna’s nose.   
“Katniss, Katniss! Snap out of it!” She urges, “It’s okay…”   
A shaky hand reaches out for Johanna’s forearm, clasps and clings for dear life; her thumb pressing on Johanna’s sore IV entrance. But she doesn’t flinch. She pries the sweaty hand from her arm and holds it tightly in her own, feeling the younger woman’s nails dig into her flesh. “It’s okay. I’m here.”

Their eyes meet, but Johanna can barely make out Katniss’s features in the dim orange glow of the clock. For a brief moment she wished the buildings in District 13 were above ground, so she could see Katniss’ face in the moonlight. Despite being the girl on fire, orange doesn’t suit her.  
The grip on her hand is secure, and the glimmer in Johanna’s eyes comforts her enough to remember her new mantra: ‘I am Katniss Everdeen. I am in District Thirteen. Johanna is with me. I was dreaming.’ The mantra revolves in her mind and soft whispers tumble over her lips until she regains control of her breathing. When she opens her eyes, she notices Johanna’s furrowed brow and concerned eyes staring into hers. “Like I said—” her voice cracks, “I wouldn’t wish it upon my worst enemy.” Johanna’s hand works its way down to Katniss’ back, smoothing over the top of her thin pajama shirt issued to each resident. Her hand lingers a bit too long on the ends of Katniss’ hair, which she begins to rub in between her fingertips. Katniss looks at Johanna’s arm, the spot where the morphling entered her veins, and then she looks to her face. She notices her hand is still in Johanna’s, though not in such a tight grip, but enough to feel her quickened pulse. She readjusts her hand and rubs her thumb pad over the top of Johanna’s hand. “Stay with me, please.”

Johanna isn’t used to touching anyone, never mind lying next to someone with the threat of the full body contact looming over her. She didn’t exactly grow up in a very touchy-feely family; the Mason’s usually touched each other in anger or desperation. Johanna can only recall one time she had ever seen her mother and father embrace and kiss… and even that she questioned as fabrication. As for her, Johanna noticed a pattern—she only received a kiss on the cheek from her mother the night after her father would get caught with a needle in his arm, sending the family into a well-known tizzy. The kiss quickly became no longer comforting, but merely a scheduled event, a semi-feigned attempt to make her feel secure. She soon dreaded hearing her mother’s soft, padded footsteps inching closer to her door, the noise the hinge would make as the door creaked open—without a knock—as her mother would step through. The lamp light shone on her face, lighting only one side, distorting her naturally beautiful features.

As she got older, she realized the beauty her mother possessed and the features she received from her: her slightly flared nose, her green eyes—though she had her father’s shape—, and her softer jaw line, to name a few. She knew what her father could see in her mother—she was a clearly a beautiful person and caring enough. She wasn’t a terrible mother, but, maybe she just shouldn’t have been one. Though, supposedly it was all she wanted as a little girl. She did her best to provide for Johanna and shelter her from her father’s insolent and careless behavior, but as Johanna got older it seemed as though she cared for her out of obligation. Johanna never felt the need to ask when she had become so calloused to the world. And now she wouldn’t have the chance to.

Johanna had many reasons for being so calloused and jaded when it came to trusting others with her body, one of them simple enough for anyone in Panem to guess. Victors are trained to be untrusting of others; and when it is so clearly demonstrated, it’s not easy to shake. Even the feats she made with Rosie had been washed away by the Games. The slight twitches, the hitches in her breath seemed to lessen and eventually stop with her. As they became closer, Johanna no longer shivered with anxiety at her touch, but instead became hungry to touch Rosie in the same vein. Since Rosie’s death, Johanna has let herself become unkempt; she lets her skin become dry and cracked, left to split and bleed. Now her once beautiful complexion is oily and tarnished by the daily grime she has let build up. Her nails are jagged and dirty underneath, her hair is full of snarls, and her skin has become so sensitive. But water is too much.

Something about Katniss’ eyes makes her reluctance cower. She sees the absolute fear still lingering in her face, even though she has snapped out of her nightmare. Johanna isn’t sure what they are—Friends? Acquaintances? Victors? Comrades in the struggle? But what she does know is that if she ever felt this desperation—the desperation she sees in Katniss’s darting, dilated eyes, she would want someone to be with her too. Without a word, Johanna walks to the other side of the bed and crawls in, leaving a small space in between her front and Katniss’s back, but close enough to feel her radiating body heat. Katniss reaches behind herself and feels for Johanna’s wrist, guiding it to the concave curvature in her side. “Can you… hold me?” The muscles she unknowingly let relax have now tensed up again. She can hear the hesitation in the younger woman’s voice, but, can’t say no to her. “Ye-,” A familiar hitch, “Yeah. Sure.” 

Johanna lets her body relax, though she is far from sleep. The constant headaches common from withdrawal are pounding in her skull, making her head feel like a balloon that is being inflated and deflated at a rapid rate. Her sour stomach isn’t helping either, though she realized she won’t throw up if she doesn’t eat—not that anything has been appetizing, anyway. As she hears Katniss’ breath slow down, she lets her mind wander to a place where she once felt at peace. 

Distance grew on Johanna. She longed to be alone, even when there was no one around. She was used to being by herself, but even playing with toys indoors became stifling. She wanted to be alone—alone, alone. The forest became a refuge for her as a young girl; she loved to climb trees and be with her thoughts for hours on end, though often, the blistering northern temperatures wouldn’t allow for it. When she could, she would sneak out to where deer roamed and hang on the trunks of the tall evergreen trees, her hand gripping the cracked bark which was often patched with moss. She would let her body hang, her hand being the only anchor between herself and the ground. Sometimes her hand would slip on the moss, or get a splinter, or simply lose grip, and she would tumble to the ground, landing in a thick layer of damp leaves. But when she got it right, she would spin around a tree for what seemed like hours sometimes. She liked the feeling of almost falling; knowing the only person to support her from the ground was herself. Her palms became calloused from their exposure to the rough bark—but after a while, Johanna couldn’t feel the splinters, or maybe, would let herself feel them. Her eyes were closed, mind focused on nothing it seemed, her lungs filling with the crisp, fresh, chilled, northern air, only opening her eyes when she would slip and tumble onto the ground. She sometimes would roll over onto her back and lie there, breathless, staring up at the sky in between the thick evergreen needles. Johanna loved being alone.

When Johanna remembers she is in District Thirteen with only the tree’s roots at her level and Katniss by her side, she notices the soft circles she’s making on Katniss’s stomach. She jolts her hand away from the curve, angry that she let herself get lost in the past, let her hand wander in that familiar pattern. Katniss, taken out of her slow decent into unconsciousness again, twists her body so she’s meeting Johanna’s face with her own. “You okay?” Katniss sees the surprise in Johanna’s face when she turns around to questions her. “Oh, yeah. I thought you were asleep.” Johanna fumbles, “Sorry. I didn’t mean to... touch you like-” Katniss looks into Johanna eyes and studies her face. Her worried expression, the creases on her forehead, some of her face looks darker than usual—more dull, maybe—her cheeks slightly sunken. She remembers first seeing Johanna—the bright, shining, confident, round-faced woman she met in the elevator does not match the one merely inches away from her now. Johanna looks broken, she thinks. She is broken. We both are, Katniss realizes. “It’s okay, Jo. It felt nice. I didn’t--” Katniss cuts herself off when she sees what she thinks are tears pooling on the bridge of Johanna’s nose, eventually bursting over the edge and onto the pillow. “You know you can trust me, right?” Johanna gives a slight nod and turns over, back facing Katniss. She can’t bear to let Katniss see her like this. A rage fills her inside—she’s not normally the one to let her feelings get in the way, but recently they have become uncontrollable. She just wants it to go away. She wants to relax. Johanna remembers the morphling stash under the sink’s cabinetry in the bathroom, taped to the side at the back. The one she planted for emergencies, she rationalized to herself. She decides to wait until Katniss is asleep to make her move. 

As if on cue, Katniss sighs lightly and turns back over, facing Johanna’s empty bed, trying to go to sleep once again, hoping for no more dreams. Johanna stays up a bit longer than she has to before slinking out of bed and into the bathroom. She sits on the toilet, making this rendezvous seem as normal as possible in case Katniss would suddenly wake. She flushes and quietly walks to the sink to turn on the water—pretending to wash her hands. The force of the water coming out of the faucet and the splashes into the shallow sink turns Johanna into stone. Her arm is stuck in motion reaching for the cabinet knob, her hand shaking as she feels her heart rate increase rapidly. Her eyes dart up to the mirror above the sink, shocked to see her reflection in the mirror. She looks pale and sunken, looking as dead as she feels on the inside—though the sight still startles her. She notices the dirt still clogged in her some of her pores from their field training exercises, and the choppy ring of dirt around her hairline where it became trapped in the oils. She’s disgusted but can’t look away at this unrecognizable face. When she does, she stares at the water still jutting out of the faucet and moves her shaking hand to the handle, making sure she doesn’t get even a drop on herself and turns it off, looking once more at the mirror.

Only a little, only a little, she tells herself as she opens the cabinet, reaching for the morphling, cloth and syringe. As carefully as she can manage in her upset state, she tugs at the tape, freeing the cure to her ailments. She wraps her arm up, taps the needle, and it’s over within seconds. She slumps, just like her father she thinks fleetingly, and puts the vial and syringe back under the sink. Normally she wouldn’t reuse a needle, but she doesn’t know how she’ll get another—she can’t even get fifty feet near the hospital wing without some notifying an orderly.

She tries to walk out of the bathroom as normally as possible and slinks back into Katniss’ bed. She realizes once she’s there she could have moved—told Katniss she got too hot in the middle of the night—but something draws her back. The comfort Katniss gives her, the comfort she gives Katniss. Enough thinking, she says to herself as her heavy lids close, finally.


	3. Where The Sunshine Glows, Always Keep Me Close

“Jo—Johanna!” Johanna’s eyes flutter open, struggling to focus on the younger woman in front of her. “It’s zero seven-hundred.” Katniss places her hand on Johanna’s upper arm and strokes it up and down, in an attempt to stimulate Johanna awake. “We need to get up.” She peeks at Johanna’s unusual, distant look in her nearly pin-point pupils when her eyelids waver up. There is only a faint glow of the rising sun coming in through the coveted, tiny window in their room—similar to the one in her mother and Prim’s apartment—her eyes should be starved for light; pupils wide, craving it. But they’re not. Her eyes look like the same beady, shaky ones from the District Six tributes in the Quarter Quell—their tiny eyes darting back and forth the in the Games’ Training Center.

“Shove off Everdeen, I only just fell asleep two hours ago.” Johanna attempts to turn over but Katniss lands her hands on both of her shoulders, pushing them down to the bed forcefully, and throws a leg over Johanna’s body, straddling her. The force of Johanna’s head bouncing on the pillow stuns her body awake, though her mind still feels foggy. When she realizes that Katniss has bent down, her face only mere inches from her own, a surge of energy runs on her skin, splattering the surface with goosebumps. “Well, that seemed to work.” Johanna notices the smirk on Katniss’ face and watches her pupils widen, the darkness nearly eclipsing the contrasting irises. Just when Johanna thinks Katniss couldn’t possibly be any closer to her, Katniss bends down even further, putting her face on Johanna’s right side, mouth nearly touching her ear. “Now, get up.” She hisses out, breath and radiating body heat hot on Johanna’s ear and neck.  
  
Play it cool, Johanna thinks. When she realizes her arms are loose to use, she releases herself from Katniss’ grip and sits up quickly, playfully knocking the younger woman off of her pelvis with her now freed shoulder, sending Katniss backwards, nearly falling off the bed. “Think you’re so tough, huh, Everdeen?” Johanna can’t help but smile seeing Katniss sprawled near the foot of the bed, gathering her footing. “Mason, you _know_ I’m strong” she jokes back. Johanna keeps the stare in between them a little too long, and Katniss finally breaks it, looking at the clock. “Breakfast in 10 minutes… Get ready.” Waking up like this isn’t too bad, Johanna thought. As much as she would once hate to admit it, being around Katniss makes her feel good.

The walk to the cafeteria was a quiet one. Even though Katniss was ready to go when she woke up Johanna, she still waited for her so they could walk together. She suspected Johanna was still using morphling, but had no idea when she had the time to do it, and didn’t want to give her any time alone to do so. She wasn’t exhibiting her usual symptoms—her little twitches, complaining about loud noises, the nausea, the restriction of food—the fact that she was coming to the cafeteria was huge in and of itself—and the most worrisome of all, her irritability was gone. Though, Katniss thought, that might just a symptom of being Johanna Mason. This Johanna seemed at ease: maybe an improved version of herself. Katniss hated thinking this way—what Johanna was doing to herself wasn’t right. It’s not something to be applauded. Plus, Katniss reminded herself, Johanna’s making strides of her own—she’s certainly not as brash and rude as she used to be.

Johanna walks into the dining hall first, inhaling the sausage-scented air. The smell immediately makes her stomach churn—she hasn’t eaten a real meal in days and her stomach is desperate. Her body is so hungry that she’s disgusted by even the smell. But she can’t restrict herself again—not when she hasn’t stepped foot in here in at least a day; it would be suspicious, people would question. The thoughts and accusations race through her mind. She clenches her fists as she wishes she took a higher “dose” than one just to get her to sleep. She knows it needs to end, but it’s so easy: a comfort blanket at this point. She can feel her body weaning off the drug, the symptoms propelled forward by her psyche.  
  
  
“Hey ladies.”  
  
A familiar voice comes up from behind them. Finnick. Johanna feels her body loosen some of the tense muscles in her back, her shoulders easing down. Finnick. The only person Snow could really take away from her now. Katniss’ face flashes in her mind… now, Katniss too—she can feel the irregular heartbeat just reminding herself of the name... She thinks, is that what they mean by ‘your heart skips a beat’ when you love someone? Love? The two people who could be ripped from her so easily. At least Finnick has a clue.

“No-can-do with our usual breakfast date today—sorry.” He puts a hand on Johanna’s shoulder, looking into her eyes as if he’s searching for something he’s lost.  
  
“Why?” Katniss asks.  
  
He breaks the stare and redirects to Katniss, “Meeting with Haymitch and BeeTee.”  
“For what?” Johanna asks a little too quickly.  
  
“Don’t know—catch up with you soon.” He doesn’t look at Johanna again, but rubs his thumb over her shoulder before letting it go.  
  
“Take care of her, alright?” He motions to Johanna, “She’s skin and bones that one...”  
  
“Shut up, Finnick!” Johanna yells after him, like she would at an older brother. He winks on his way out, with his expertly crafted, charming-all-of-Panem smile.

  
“If he wasn’t so charming that smile would be smarmy as all-hell” Katniss says after he’s gone.  
  
“He would!” Johanna replies, “Little jerk.” She can’t help but look at the corner of Katniss’ mouth pull into a smile, the way her skin crinkles around her eyes, the apples of her cheeks rounder. She’s almost distracted enough to forget about the raging headache that’s soon to come.  
  
“At least he cares, right?” Katniss hands a plate and bowl to Johanna from the serving station.  
  
“Yeah, he cares.” She takes both even though she knows she’ll only get porridge to settle her stomach.  
  
“You know that makes at least two of us, right?” Katniss looks over at Johanna, waiting for her to look at her. But she doesn’t. She focuses on putting the runny, luke-warm porridge into her bowl.  
  
It goes in with an audible plop. “What?” She returns the spoon back to the pile of white-ish muck, which sinks its way in like quicksand.  
  
“Two people who care about you.”  
  
Johanna’s head quickly turns to face Katniss’ and she looks directly into her eyes. She very nearly can’t handle the energy between them—she can feel her palms get sweaty, losing her grip on the plate. “Of course you do. What’s not to love about me?” Always there with the wit, Johanna thinks.  
  
“Ha. Ha. Now move it. I want some of that venison sausage.” Katniss’ eyebrows raise up and down, eyeing her kill from a few days prior.  
  
“Gross.”  
  
“Hey, don’t bite the hand that feeds you, Mason.” Johanna gives her a classic eye-roll as she walks off.  
  
  
She sets her sights set on finding seats, trying to ignore the dull pain at the back of her head. Within minutes Katniss finds her, holding a plate of sausage, eggs, orange slices and a bowl of the disgusting porridge. The sight and smell of the bland food in her bowl is almost enough for Johanna to up-chuck, never mind what Katniss has.

The lights flicker momentarily, disturbing everyone in the hall—nerves heightened as though there may be a Capitol air-strike happening. As if on cue, President Coin comes on the intercom to inform everyone that there is just some bad weather, but all outdoor activities will continue, “Follow your schedule,” she commands. That must be _her_ mantra, Katniss thinks.  
  
“I guess that’s one of the downsides to living underground,” Katniss begins, “You never know if there’s a war happening above you, or just some heavy rain and lightning.”  
  
The words are enough to stall Johanna’s movements. It’s a good thing her spoon is in her bowl, or it would have been dropped to the floor. She swirls the measly batch of porridge around her mouth, making herself choke it down. As if she wasn’t having a terrible day already. She checks her schedule again, just to make sure she doesn’t have to overreact: “Training – Outdoor Field A.” No.  
  
Katniss notices a change in Johanna’s mood. She’s very stingy with her words, her posture caged and meek; as if she’s afraid someone is going to pull the rug out from under her. They walk to the stairwell doors that take them to the field above. They manage the stairs without issue, nodding and waving to others on the way up. Johanna doesn’t say a word—but Katniss gives an occasional greeting. The doors open, greeting the soldiers with rain that could be considered slightly-below-downpour-status. Johanna freezes just outside the door, where there is still a small shelter above it, a reprieve from the rain. Katniss starts to walk into the rain, but Johanna’s arm flings out and grabs one of Katniss’, bringing her under the door shelter.

Her eyes look unusually nervous, and Katniss can tell from the grip that Johanna’s shaking. She looks at her face, Johanna’s agape mouth—filled with words, thoughts, fears just waiting to spill. But they won’t budge.

“What’s wrong?” Johanna looks into the field, “That’s a lot of rain.” Her breath hitches.

Katniss puts her hand on Johanna’s unused arm—the one that isn’t gripping the life out of her own. She knows something is wrong but doesn’t know what. “Doesn’t it rain all the time where you come from?”  
  
Johanna remembers the early spring days she would stay in the forest, and swing on the trees; the raindrops falling from the evergreen needles, pinecones, and new buds on other trees. Sometimes she would even try to catch them with her mouth, like snowflakes—but not now. Yet again, Snow has ruined her life in a way she never thought imaginable.

“It won’t hurt you, c’mon.” Katniss’ hand slides from near Johanna’s shoulder to her hand, guiding her into the field. Johanna resists, but a droplet of rain lands on her hand from the shelter above. She stares at it, unknowingly tightening her grip on Katniss’ hand, and goes into the rain with her. “It’s okay. It can’t hurt me.” She says to herself a little too loudly—loud enough for Katniss to hear her.  
  
“Yeah, Mason, you’re gonna be fine.” She hopes. They hope.  
  


The soldiers are soaked to the bone within minutes of their run. Johanna isn’t on point today and Katniss can tell: her breathing is all off—has she really been paying that much attention to her these past few weeks? She asks herself; her hands are balled up into fists, and, most important of all, she’s sure Johanna is crying. It’s hard to distinguish from the rain, but her eyes are red around the rims and she keeps looking down, despite the commands to keep heads raised. Something happened to her and Katniss desperately wants to know. Johanna Mason doesn’t crack this easily.

The rain, Johanna tells herself, isn’t bad. It’s not the rain. Rain isn’t bad. Rain is nourishing. It’s the buckets and buckets of water thrown at her as she was shocked by an electrical cow prod on the neck. The tubs filled to the brim as she was submerged over and over as she gasped for air. She swears, now, that the spot on her neck is raised—the pain in her nerves activated by the exposure to water, her lungs constricting and expanding furiously. It’s burning with each droplet that falls on it, but she keeps her head down to hide the tears streaming down her face. The rain has been beating down on her head, her short hair soaked, giving way to all the dirt that has been collected over the time she’s been in District Thirteen. The streams run into her eyes, burning as they mingle with other liquid; if she wasn’t already crying, her eyes would be producing tears to get the filth out of them. She is almost nearing the end of her third lap when she hears the deafening “crack”-like sound, as if it were only a few feet away from her, when in reality, it was miles away, up and up. ‘ _With thunder comes lightnin’. Though only one ‘causes a real disaster, but thunder always stays ‘round,’_ her mother always said. She wonders if her mom ever meant to make it sound like her relationship with Johanna’s father.

Then, without a doubt—just as her mother would say—Johanna saw a flash come from just outside the perimeter of the field, into the forest. This, too, seemed much closer than it was, but everyone was stunned by its proximity. She swore she could feel the ground pulsating with energy, traveling to her toes, through her legs, crawling up her spine and ending at the permanently scarred spot on her neck. The pain amplified the pounding in her brain and she dropped to her knees, slapping a hand over her neck, as if brute force would end it all. In the distance she can hear the muffled, drowned-out sounds of their Officer notifying the Commander of the inclement, dangerous weather.

She feels a sharp pain in her stomach—her exhausted body reacting from the little food, strenuous exercise, and heightened nerves. Whatever she ate did not soak up the acid in her stomach, which finally gets it revenge when she spews mostly bile onto the field. Katniss rushes over to Johanna’s bent-over, frail frame on the field and helps her up when she’s finished gagging. “C’mon,” Katniss starts, “Coin finally cancelled training—said the lightning storm was too dangerous… you think?” She tries to add humor to the situation, but Johanna is too in pain to care. “It’s as if she wants to see me suffer.” Katniss looks at Johanna’s sunken-in face, her red rimmed eyes, mouth still rimmed with spit. She takes her thumb and wipes Johanna’s mouth off, then wipes her thumb on her government-issues clothes. All of this makes her sick. “Yeah,” A faked attempt to understand, “She’s not my biggest fan, either.” You’re not helping, Katniss thinks to herself. She needs more than that. “C’mon, let’s get you some more food.”

When Katniss walks into the dining hall, she locks eyes with Finnick, who is sitting with Annie. When his eyes travel to the slumped mess that is Johanna Mason hanging at Katniss’ side, he jumps up and runs to their aid, supporting Johanna’s other side and brings her to a chair.

“Stay here.” He tells Johanna.

“Can barely walk by myself... where the hell am I going to go?” Johanna retorts, elbows on the table, head in hands.

Finnick grabs Katniss’s hand a little too aggressively and pulls her out of earshot from Johanna. “What the hell happened?”

“I don’t know. We were starting training outside and it was raining and she was crying and…”

“What?” Finnick interrupts, “She was in the rain?”

“Yeah and next thing I knew she was on the ground throwing up whatever she had in her stomach.” Katniss’ speech gets more rapid the longer she goes on, “That was after the lightning strike though... didn’t you guys feel it?”

Finnick puts his hands on his head, ruffles his hair and slides them over his face, pulling at his bottom lip. “I can’t believe they let her go out there knowing what she’s been through.” Katniss can tell he’s mad—furious, really—but she needs to know. “What?” She asks tentatively, “What has she been through? What happened to her?” “She hasn’t told you?”

A sudden, unexpected surge of jealously builds up in Katniss. The feeling makes her uneasy—she _knows_ why Johanna would have told Finnick—they have been friends for years—but even she can’t help the selfish reaction that she wishes she were Finnick instead. That _she_ were able to share those intimate moments with Johanna. That she was the one who was able to spend late nights laughing and crying with her, holding her hand. She desperately wants to know her. All of her. As she looks at her; the small figure with her head in her hands—she realizes she doesn’t know her at all. She’s practically a stranger—she barely knows her more than the public does. But there is still this deep longing—this affinity for Johanna: the girl who treasures a bundle of pine needles. It’s something she can’t keep down, can’t control. She remembers earlier in the day... How her core seemed to hum with excitement as she wrestled Johanna—getting close to her skin, smelling the earth on her. The feeling was similar to experiences with Peeta and Gale, but more intense—maybe because she hadn’t put so much pressure on it; because so much wasn’t expected of her; because it was organic and unplanned. She didn’t expect it to happen. It snuck up on her, like a hunter to its prey.

He puts his hand softly on Katniss’ shoulder, brings her closer to the corner in the room and lowers his voice. Katniss almost wants to shrug his hand off her, but she knows that he isn’t the enemy here. Remember who the real enemy is.

 “They used water and electrocution to torture her.” He starts, “Peeta got hijacked… she was tortured the old fashioned way.”

Katniss’ face is a mix of terror, intense sadness and longing. She looks over at Johanna, still with her head on her hands, and wants to reach out and touch her, grab her, never let her go; protect her. She can’t believe the images that must have flashed through her mind as the rain poured down and the lightning flashed in her eyes. Remember who the real enemy is. Snow—the mastermind of the torture, she was sure. Remember who the real enemy is. Coin and her Officers—who let her out there knowing she might break. If she had the gall, she thought, she would walk up to Coin and spit in her face—tell her that she needs to take better care of her soldiers if she wants to win this fight; that she’s a disgrace. But, she thinks, it would be a death sentence. She’ll take care of her own. Finnick’s face moves in front of her own, interrupting her eyes from travelling up Johanna’s back.

“Katniss,” He tries to get her attention, “Let’s get her something to eat.”  Her eyes snap back to his sea-green eyes, his face so comforting. In that moment, she’s thankful he is so collected. Katniss represses the urge to flee—this is where you need to fight: be strong, she tells herself. You’re the girl on fire: the fighter. Now believe it. Remember who the real enemy is. Remember who you’re fighting for.

“Hey, Sae,” She says to the woman behind the food line, “Any chance we could get some wafers and ginger juice?”  She looks confused, and they gesture to Johanna, who seems to have regained some color back into her face and is saying a few words to Annie. Greasy Sae doesn’t say a word, but simply nods her head and scurries into the kitchen, coming back a minute later with a glass full of yellow-ish juice and two packets filled with thin, salty crackers. “Thank you.” Katniss takes the food from Greasy Sae as if it’s a gift from the Gods—not that she believes in any particular faith. Sae winks with her good eye and shuffles back into the kitchen.

Johanna seems to have calmed her breathing enough to regain some strength. “I’m fine, let’s go,” she tries to convince Katniss and Finnick, but they’re not buying it. “No way, Mason. You need to eat.” Finnick says, sliding the bags and juice to her. Johanna thinks her stomach actually balls up like a fist at the sight of the food, but she knows she needs it. She opens the bags and begins to eat, taking sips of the ginger juice, which begins to combat the acid in her stomach—not that she’s sure she has any more at the moment.

“So, is something up?” Finnick asks tentatively. He knows something wrong, heck, even Annie knows something is up with Johanna. Katniss hears Finnick’s words, but everything sounds like she’s underwater—distant, choppy. She thinks back to the night before; how Johanna came to her rescue when she woke up from her nightmare and stayed with her, even though she was in so much pain herself. Katniss hated herself for being so weak that she needed someone to help her feel better after a bad dream, like a child. Johanna had real problems, she thought, how could she be so selfish? How did she not see them earlier? Johanna has nothing. Only what is given to her here, and a bundle of pine needles—nothing and no one. At least you have your mother and Prim, she chastises herself.

“Don’t lie to me.” Hearing the slight aggression in his voice snaps her back to reality. It’s only then that she realizes her left arm, the one closest to Johanna, has traveled to her lower back, rubbing up and down on her exposed spine, letting her fingers run across her vertebrae through her damp shirt. Finnick looks down and notices Katniss’ hand placement, which she too notices, but she doesn’t move. If it were any other time, Finnick might have a snarky joke to poke fun at them—Katniss for being so touchy-feely, and to Johanna for allowing it. “I don’t want to talk about it Finnick. Not right now.” She can tell Johanna is getting frustrated; thankfully she’s finished most of her food and drink by that point.

“Why, Johanna? They already know. Nothing to hide...”

“I don’t care!” She glares up at him, clearly upset that Katniss and Annie know. They must think I’m such a weakling, she thinks. “I don’t want to _fucking_ talk about it right now.”

“Just leave it…” Katniss tells Finnick.

“I don’t need you to stick up for me.” Johanna moves away from Katniss hastily: quick enough that Katniss’ hand is left in the air, unsupported. She looks at Finnick as she rises from the table, “And I don’t need you to feed me.” She pushes the empty bags toward him, “I can take care of myself.” She turns and storms away and Katniss jumps up after her, just as Johanna careens into a tall, burly man on her way out the door and screams something incoherent in his face.

“Apparently you can’t! You really need to talk to someone!” He yells after her. Before she leaves, Katniss whips around “Way to go, Finnick.”

By the time she gets out of the doors, Katniss doesn’t have Johanna in her eyesight. The government-issued clothes do not make this any easier—everyone makes one big Earth-toned mass that seems to move in waves. A training shift must have ended, Katniss thinks as she pushes her way through the horde, fighting the tide. She can only assume Johanna will have gone back to their room. When she finally gets to the hallway intersection leading to their room, she notices Johanna at the end of it, turning another corner—right, she reminds herself. Adrenaline courses through her veins as she runs faster down the hallway, looking for the short, choppy haircut. At the end of the third hallway, Johanna can hear Katniss’ boots on the tile floor

“Leave me alone, Katniss!”

“Johanna! Stop! Please!”

Though she’s used to running by this point, her breath is ragged as she’s holding back tears. She doesn’t want to see Johanna hurt herself anymore—no one deserves that kind of sadness. Katniss knows all too well how easy it is to run away from her problems—how good it feels. All those times she could crawl through the gate into the forest outside District Twelve; sure, she was providing for her family, but it was also a place that she could be alone with her thoughts, away from her problems. But, as she sees the same behavior in Johanna, she sees its destructive qualities: how it can shut you off from others—others who want the best for you. When she’s close enough, her arm reaches out to grab Johanna’s hand. Johanna turns around and pushes Katniss against the wall, her eyes looking up into Katniss’. It’s then that Katniss realizes that she has some height on Johanna—only a couple of inches, but it’s something she never noticed before. Johanna’s personality makes her seem so aggressive, strong, domineering—Katniss never thought she had even the slightest edge on her. Maybe she still doesn’t.

“How long have you known?” Johanna’s voice is low, damaged. Katniss can see her eyes rimming in red again.

“Not even ten minutes, I swear.” Katniss has her back flat up against the wall, eyes cast down.

“You _swear_?” Johanna scoffs and cackles. “What’s next? A pinky promise?”

“I wouldn’t lie to you!” Katniss says a little too loudly.

Johanna turns on her heel and speeds off to their door. Katniss follows after her, trying to keep up—for someone with short legs, she thinks, she’s awfully fast. Johanna fumbles with the key card, but the door eventually unlocks and she rushes in, trying to close Katniss out. Katniss is too close behind, though, and she pushes the door open and rushes after Johanna. “When are you going to realize that people care about you?!” She yells after her as Johanna runs into the bathroom, the slamming front door punctuating her sentence.

Johanna flings open the cabinet under the sink, looking for her stash—the bathroom door is completely open, she doesn’t care if Katniss sees the whole process. She wants relief. She doesn’t need anyone, she tells herself.

When Katniss realizes what she’s doing—what she must be looking for—she runs in after Johanna and throws her body on her, sending her to the cold tile floor. When she goes to move over Johanna’s body to restrain, she feels a sharp prick to the palm of her hand. She looks at her left hand to see a needle and syringe sticking straight out—if it weren’t for the adrenaline in her body she would be screaming, but instead she rips it out and slaps the punctured hand over Johanna’s right wrist. “STOP IT!” she yells into Johanna’s face.

A sharp cackle comes from her mouth, “What? Are we best friends now?” Johanna looks a little crazed, unlike her normal self—almost like she did when she came out of the jungle brush in the arena, covered in blood, eyes wide.

“I care about you!” Katniss says, her voice still at a high level. “People care about you! When are you gonna see that?!”

“Yeah? What the hell are you gonna do to help me?” Katniss can see Johanna’s lip quiver at the end of her question, the signal of a tough façade beginning to crumble. Then, without thought, she leans down to the woman pinned below her and places her lips on her own. A little too forceful, she thinks as she feels her lip pinched by her own teeth. But to her surprise, Johanna returns the kiss with similar verocity. Hard enough to lift Katniss’ head a little bit higher. Katniss’ muscles relax and she lets go of Johanna’s arms, which quickly find their way to Katniss’ face.

Johanna can feel something stir inside her, her legs tremble and her mind races—she tries to stop the thoughts because she wants to enjoy this moment; this moment where she feels weightless and completely without burden. After another kiss, an image of Rosie flashes behind her eyelids and she turns her head away from Katniss and lets her once-guarded tears fall freely. Katniss stops at once, feeling the wetness on her face and sits up, followed by Johanna, who has her hands on her face. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry, Johanna. I shouldn’t have—”

“No…” Johanna can’t look her in the eye but she wants her to know that she did nothing wrong. “It’s not you. I just...” Katniss tentatively puts her arms around Johanna, guiding her to her chest.

“You can trust me.” Katniss whispers in her ear, and Johanna crumbles into her arms, letting the tears flow freely. “You can trust me. You can trust me.”

As Katniss holds Johanna she realizes that this is more than what happened in the Capitol or the Games. This is deeper than she could ever guess.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, what do you guys think of the actions of our characters so far? Selfish? Caring? Insensitive? Reactionary?
> 
> Feedback and encouraging comments are welcomed and appreciated!!


	4. You May Not See It When It's Sticking To Your Skin, But We're Better Off For All That We Let In

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bit of fluff this chapter--enjoy!

The door slamming distracts Katniss from fixing the broken cabinet in the bathroom; the one that apparently was forced onto just a little too hard the previous night. She didn’t notice it before their morning training, but when she returned home, the upper hinge was loose—the top screw sticking out of the wood. They don’t have much in the way of accessible advanced tools in District Thirteen, but each residence has a small hand tool kit—only slightly better than District Twelve, she thinks, where most things were fixed in a patchwork fashion. She tries to turn the screws clockwise, but the wood beneath it is stripped and it’s going nowhere.

“Johanna?”Katniss hears the thud of Johanna’s shoes falling on the hard floor, but there is no answer.

“Johanna?” She tries again. She steps out into the space and sees Johanna on the small couch, arm over her eyes, nose burrowed into her elbow.

Katniss’ entrance into the room prompts Johanna, finally. “Yeah? What?”

“What’s up? You snuck out this morning before me and—“

“I didn’t sneak out.” She draws out, her eyes still covered. I was starving. I went to the early breakfast.”

“Alright, well you left and then bailed right after training.”

Johanna’s brain is fried—she’s exhausted, and the headaches just won’t quit. Johanna backtracks the day in her mind—how she went to the medical wing to get something for the pain after training, but only heard the standard line from the nurses, _“Sorry, we can’t help you right now”_ followed by snickering when she turned her back. They must have heard the rumors—albeit true rumors—and she was blacklisted out of suspicion. But for the first time in her life, instead of causing a scene: telling everyone around her to go fuck themselves, for example—she walked out, silent. Fuming, but silent. Next time, heads will roll.

And, of course, a part of her was afraid to see Katniss after the night before. There were too many tears for Johanna—for someone who doesn’t cry in front of anyone. Ever. Too many feelings; it was easier to be conveniently busy even with a pounding headache and shaking hands.

“Is this about last night?”

“No. I’m not avoiding you.” Lie. “You had that meeting with Haymitch, right? And I was hungry so I went to breakfast… and training was… training, you were there, and I have a huge headache from the fucking … drugs and the crying from last night. I barely slept.”

“I know, you kept kicking me and rustling the covers.” Katniss says almost too seriously.

“It’s not my fault you’re a space heater.” She retorts as she lowers her arm, finally looking at Katniss. Short pieces of hair are framing her face, unmoved from when they fell during training. She still looks breathless and ruddy, but fresh. Beautiful. Clean. Pure. Trusting. Though, her currently worried expression slightly pulls from her beauty. Johanna notices that she’s rubbing her hands together and looks like she’s about to vomit.

“I’m so—“

“Katniss. Don’t. It’s fine. Don’t be embarrassed. It’s not my fi—”

“No, I need to apologize. And I’m not embarrassed. I don’t regret it. Unless…I don’t know what it was about… but you were crying and something wasn’t okay. If I did that, I’m sorry. Or… I’m sorry for making you remember something… bad. If it was bad.” Her eyes finally focus on Johanna, “I’m sorry.”                                                                     

In that moment, Johanna wonders how Katniss was able to hide so many secrets during the Games and tours, because she shows her emotion so clearly in her face and body. It’s like a dam breaks as her posture softens, shoulders lowered. Like the apology—the built up guilt and negativity—leeched itself out.

“I uh… I just don’t want to be my dad.”

Johanna doesn’t register that she’s said anything until a quiet noise comes from Katniss’ mouth. Her head starts to pound, the blood rushes to her temples as she inhales sharply. This is safe. This is safe. “I looked in the mirror the other night and saw the same dark circles under his eyes, same sunken cheeks, same dead eyes…”

“Was he sick?” Katniss shuts her agape mouth and motions closer to Johanna.

“He was an addict.” Quick and to the point; it was his defining trait. “Morphling.”

It’s like a light bulb bursts on and burns out within a fraction of a second in Katniss’ brain. A sudden understanding, but attached with an intense sadness. She has no words, but puts herself next to Johanna and hesitantly places a hand on her knee.

“I watched him practically kill himself every day.” Her gaze is distant, but her hand has covered Katniss’, holding it lightly.

“And your mom?”

“She stopped trying to fight it. She accepted her life as the way it was. Kind of helpless, I guess.” A shrug.

“And then yesterday…. During training.” Johanna continues, “I was on my knees, throwing up whatever my stomach managed to find, and I thought to myself, _‘This is who you are? This is who you’ve become? What happened to the Johanna Mason everyone was afraid of?’_ ”

“I’m pretty sure you can still look at someone and make their ass leak.” Clearly some of Johanna’s humor had rubbed off on her. “But, you have to know most of what happened yesterday was not your fault.”

“I try not to remember, but I’m reminded every day: reminded by the water in the sink, in the flickering lights. Everything. The storm wasn’t the first time.” Johanna looks down at their hands, and then wraps her free one around the back of her neck. “The rain alone made my skin seize and burn… like there is some sort of electrical charge still there.”

Katniss takes in a deep, hitched breath, “I wish I knew… y’know, before we went out.” Johanna looks at her just to see a tear roll down her round cheek. “I would have stopped it.”

“It’s not your fault; it’s not your job to save me. And what I did last night wasn’t worthy of help.” She looks down at her lap. “I just want to get over it. Fight it. I don’t want… Him to have control over me anymore. He’s taken too much away from me.” She doesn’t have to say the name, Katniss knows.

“You? A fighter? Nah.” Katniss says as she playfully elbows her side, which makes Johanna smile again. “Yeah… Watch yourself, Everdeen.”

“We need to get out of this gopher hole… I have an idea.”

“Gopher hole?! … The fuck? Anyway, you’re the one with the special clearance.” Johanna says, “Go.”

“I said _we_! I’ll say I’m getting my hunting time in. You can come with.”

“What if someone checks my clearance?”

“Johanna Mason, caring around the rules? Wow, you really have gone soft on me.”

Johanna slaps Katniss on the arm “True. Fuck them. And fuck you too!” She pushes off Katniss and launches herself off the couch. “Yeah right, soft… Let’s go.”

Katniss sees the look in Johanna eyes: just as she saw in the training center, as she landed her axe in the wooden floor and looked up to face Katniss. She thought it was supposed to be intimidating, but her eyes were bright and hungry, ready for anything. Ready for escape.

 

 

Katniss grabbed her small pack and made her way to the weapons room to get her bow and arrows—even though she didn’t plan to do much hunting, she needed to make it realistic. She told Johanna to grab a blanket when she was ready to go and meet her at the corner where the weapons hallways intercepted with the main one—any closer, and there might be cause for someone to stop her.

As she made her way into the weapons room, there was extra attention paid to look as inconspicuous as possible. When she walked to grab her new bow, the one that hummed to life in her hands, she saw the light reflecting off an object against the back wall, glinting in her eye—an axe: a beautiful, short-handled wooden axe with a pristine, sharpened blade. Excellent for throwing or hand-to-hand combat. Without a second thought, she moved to the wall, cautiously wrapped her hands around the smooth handle and placed it in her bag. She was sure that alone might make Johanna’s day, maybe week.

She snuck out the room as quickly as possible and made her way down the hallway to meet Johanna. She was there, leaning her side against the wall, right near the corner, holding the thick woolen blanket from their living room behind her back. Johanna looked nervous, in a way Katniss had rarely seen her—she was tapping her foot and looking around, as if she was being hunted. She walked up behind Johanna, maybe too quietly, because when she whispered “Hey” Johanna whipped around, though her posture and movements quickly relaxed.

“Took long enough? I almost had to talk to someone.” Katniss couldn’t help but laugh at her—how nervous and excited she was just to get out. But she remembers her first time out of the confines of District Thirteen—properly out and into the woods. The air was still muggy and humid then, like breathing water; not as refreshing as it could be, but it still felt so good to breathe in fresh air, to have trees tower over her, and step on the earth again. It’s different than training on the flat grassy field—then, it doesn’t feel like an escape. Sure, you’re allowed to go outside, Katniss thinks, but it’s nothing like being _out_ there—in the quiet of the wilderness, with nothing and no one to disturb you. Bringing Johanna to her safe space didn’t seem like an invasion of privacy—as it would sometimes when Gale showed up unannounced, scaring off her game. She always brushed it off and they’d usually have fun, but there were times when she wished he never showed up.

“I went as fast as I could Mason, jeez!” Katniss links her free arm around Johanna’s and stars down the hallway. “C’mon… Plus, I got a surprise for you.” Johanna’s head whips to Katniss, who is still keeping her eyes in front of her, fixed on the direction outside. “Yeah?” Johanna’s eyebrow rises in suspicion,

“What is it?”

“That’s the thing about surprises, right? You’re not supposed to know?”

Johanna gives out an exasperated burst of air from her puffed cheeks. “I knew I hated you.”

 

Their arms slither back to their sides as they pass fellow soldiers and personnel, though they stick closely to each other’s side. Katniss leads Johanna down an unfamiliar hallway, and swipes her identification card at the door, which leads to a stairwell to the ground above. “That was a little too easy,” Johanna remarks as they climb up the stairs to the final door. Katniss’ laugh echoes in the hallway, “Yeah, it’s really just a card that does all the work. Clearly Coin doesn’t think I’m that valuable if she’s letting me go this easily.” Katniss swipes her card and their eyes meet when the door audibly unlatches.

“Ready?”

“Yeah, let’s get out of this… what did you call it?” Johanna laughs, “Gopher hole?!” Her sputtering laugh becomes a cackle and follows them into the sunshine.

“Whatever, Mason! Let’s go.” Katniss begins to walk ahead, but Johanna lags behind, taking in a deep breath. “Doesn’t look like rain.”

“No,” Katniss lags back and links her arm around Johanna’s again, “You’re safe.”

 

They walk slightly farther than their training ground, close to the edge of the forest and it’s there where Katniss swipes her card around the limit of the invisible fence, the highest technology district thirteen has to protect its borders.

“I had no idea this was even here.” Johanna says.

“They don’t exactly like to advertise it to everyone—though the lightning yesterday may have made it _abundantly_ clear… I think it struck a part of the edge.” Realizing what she’s just said, Katniss apologizes, “Sorry. I didn’t mean to… bring up anything.”

“It’s fine. It’s over.”

They walk through the slight gap the fence gives them, and go into the densely packed trees, the early fallen leaves crunching at their feet. Katniss keeps walking on her familiar path, but stops when she doesn’t hear Johanna’s steps following her. When she looks back, Johanna has knelt down and has picked up a leaf from the ground; a bright red maple leaf. She runs her slightly-tremoring fingers over its protruding veins and across the edges, studying it closely. She takes in a deep breath, appreciating the fresh early-autumn air; it’s the cleanest thing she’s put in her body in weeks. The humidity is finally starting to die down, letting autumn make its presence known. Katniss notices that the storm helped a number of the freshly-turned leaves fall off the trees, lain to their damp grave on the forest floor. “You okay?” her voice trails her thoughts.

“Yeah. Just…”

“Appreciating it?”

“Yeah.”

“Bring it with you—remember your surprise?”

Johanna picks up the leaf and holds it with both of her hands, still feeling the veins as her eyes wander above, studying the leaves in the trees and the peeking sky beyond them. The majority of the trees are shorter than what she’s used to back home, but with the branches far above her head, Johanna feels the same security—the safety net is over her, nestled just above the leaves and high branches, rushing down each branch, each trunk.

 

They walk until they can’t see the edge of the forest and settle in a loose ring of trees, across from a long-fallen, rotted out tree and large adjoining stump—which Katniss thinks will make an excellent target for what she has planned.

“Just set the blanket over there.” She points to a clear part near the trunk as she sets her bag down.

Johanna carefully lays the blanket out on the still-damp leaves, arms spread the blanket’s width, bowing down to the ground as if she were to announce, “Thank you for your consideration” to the audience of trees. Katniss quickly unzips her pack and gently takes out the axe, and lands the blade in the nearest tree.

The audible thunk makes Johanna turn around quickly, still bent down to the ground. She looks up at the gleaming handle, the sky reflected in the middle of the midnight black wood grain and a smile creeps across her face. She notices Katniss, too. The way her left leg is facing Johanna, while the rest of her body is facing the axe in front of her, the way her braid travels over her left shoulder, the spindles of hair still framing her face—but what’s most obvious of all is her smirk; she knows she’s done well. Johanna will let her have this one.

“You didn’t!” Johanna stands and walks over to her, still amazed by the beauty of the axe.

“Couldn’t resist.” She gives a quick wink. “I mean… look at it.”

Johanna gives a firm tug to pull it out of the tree. “It looks like it’s never been used before. Ash wood handle with metal trimming… and the blade…” Johanna runs a gentle finger over the bit, making sure not to cut herself. “Not even a scratch—no wear. Doesn’t even look used.”

Johanna grips the handle and looks for a worthy target. She stops when she spots the tall stump near the blanket and bends her knees as she extends her arm back, aiming at her new target. In a swift motion she flings her arm forward and pitches the axe to her target. It hits the trunk with a crack as the blade moves with the grain inside the trunk. “Ha!” Johanna rejoices.

“Whoa.” Katniss says, taken aback at her speed and strength. “Looks like I was right… you needed that.”

“Yeah, yeah, you got it right, Everdeen.” Johanna turns around and walks toward Katniss quickly, extending her arms in front of her. For a brief moment, Katniss’ body tenses as if she’s about to be attacked. Johanna’s face is slightly turned down as she reaches Katniss and wraps her arms around her waist, nestling her face in the crook of her shoulder and neck. When she realizes her arms hovering over Johanna, Katniss places them gently on Johanna’s back and rubs them up and down. Even through her jacket, Katniss can feel her ribs underneath and holds her closer to her, as if closing the minute distance will somehow make her healthy—not as skeletal, not as shaky, not as sick.

“Thank you.” The muffled sentence comes out thick and warm on Katniss’ neck, causing her heart to pound in her chest. Just as it may become noticeable, Johanna pulls back and stands on her tip-toes, pulling Katniss’ head down and places her lips on her forehead. “Don’t look so scared, Everdeen.”

Katniss tries to control the pounding of her heart and the quivering in her knees as best as she can as Johanna pulls away and struts back to the axe. “C’mere, baby!” Johanna exclaims as she rips the axe from the stump and readies herself to take a few swings. Katniss readies her bow—she doesn’t plan to hunt, and with a large kill earlier in the week, she doesn’t think it would be too suspicious to come back empty handed—if any one notices, that is. The bow hums to life as she checks her adjustments, even though they’re the same as she left them—it’s a habit she never outgrew.

“Wait—” Johanna says as Katniss is about to wander off to find another target. “I have an idea.” She walks to an overgrown berry bush a few yards away from their site, and grabs a handful of blackberries—they’re not ripe, they’re overripe, actually—a little mushy and probably sour if she ate them. They stain her fingers to the touch, which makes her smile—she knew there would be some out there; berry bushes are always rampant and overgrown. She marches over to the stump and begins to draw a face just above her own—a round face complete with two X’s for eyes and a cartoony tongue sticking out of an open mouth, paired with a small dot for a nose and scruffy lines for hair.

“You get the kill shot, right?”

“What?”

“In your deal with Coin? You get to kill him, right?”

Katniss has nearly forgotten about that detail, and the thought makes her uneasy. “Uh, yeah. I do.”

“Lucky… Let’s have target practice.”

Katniss is a bit disturbed with what Johanna seems to be presenting. Even through the Games, she never got used to killing people. She never had a reason to kill the people she did, other than the fact that the main rule of the Games were: kill or be killed. Not like Johanna. Johanna has a reason. More than one.

“Have you ever thrown an axe?”Johanna distracts Katniss out of her thoughts.

“Not really. Not like you, anyway… I didn’t even try in the training center after seeing you.” She remembers how awkward she felt the second time around—how she mostly made knots with Mags, chatted with Beetee and Wiress, and would shoot with the bow and arrow occasionally. Then again, everyone except the Careers were doing things they were comfortable with—Mags with the rope, Finnick with a trident, Wiress and Beetee with the electronics, and Johanna with the axe. Everyone putting on a brave face.

“Here—try it.” Johanna extends her arm to Katniss, handing over the axe. “I can imagine it’s a bit more barbaric than using a bow and arrow.”

“What do I do? Just throw it?”

“Hold it like this” Johanna places Katniss’ hand on the short handle, making her fingers grip the handle, thumb extended on the handle. “Then bring your arm back behind your head and chuck it.”

“Chuck it?”

“Yeah! Like a savage!” Johanna raises her eyebrow and lets out a short laugh. “Try!”

Katniss bites her lower lip as her arm extends behind her. Her knees bend as she tries to find some leverage and then, with all her strength, she throws the axe. It tumbles round and round in the air, but before it can reach the stump it hits the ground violently, nearly missing the blanket.

“Well that went well.” Katniss remarks dryly.

Johanna walks over to get the axe, freshly implanted in the ground. “You let it go too late. Let it go like when you’re throwing a rock far.” She turns and walks back to Katniss, axe in hand. “Except maybe let go a bit before... These are heavier than most throwing rocks.”

“I haven’t thrown many rocks in my life but I’ll try.” She takes the axe from Johanna’s hand gently, and places her hand in the position Johanna put it in earlier. “One more time.”

She assumes the same stance to use the most strength she can. She makes sure to release the axe earlier than before and it flies through the air, right to the target. She’s surprised it lands blade first in the target—in Snow—albeit lower than she anticipated, and sticks.

Johanna lets out a loud whistle in celebration. “Not bad, Everdeen! Though I’m glad you’ll be using an arrow instead, or else you’d just chop his balls off instead of giving him the decency of a head shot.” Katniss can’t help but laugh when she realized that Johanna’s comment is completely spot-on with the placement of the axe. “That may not be a bad idea, though…” Johanna continues.

“Yeah, I think I’ll stick with my bow.” Katniss laughs as she picks up her bow and an arrow from the holster. She quickly puts the arrow in place and rotates her body and shoots at the target—it takes her a total of two seconds, Johanna thinks as it soars through the air. When it lands square in the stump’s forehead—just above Johanna’s axe gouge—and moves back and forth in the wood, Johanna runs over to steady it and examine her work. She runs her hand over the arrow, stopping at the feather near the nock and places it in between her fingers.

“Can I try?” Johanna’s voice is unexpectedly meek and her eyes are still fixed on the feather.

Katniss feels bad she didn’t offer first. “Oh. Sorry. Sure.”

She gives the bow to Johanna, then hands her an arrow from the holster awkwardly. Johanna fumbles with the bow, trying to hold it the right way so it doesn’t slip. Generally, she has an acceptable stance, Katniss thinks, but she can’t keep the bow steady enough and the bowstring won’t flex easily.

“Here,” Katniss begins, “Let me show you.”

Before she knows it she has her arms wrapped around Johanna, her chest against Johanna’s back, her face next to her own. She wraps her hand over Johanna’s on the hand grip, adjusting her finger placement, her hand partially touching the bow.

“Whoa.” Johanna says when she feels the hum of the bow recognizing Katniss’ hand touch the grip.

“Ha, yeah, almost forgot… Beetee programmed it to recognize me; probably why the bowstring won’t stretch.”

“Oh, how thoughtful of that clever, clever Volts.” Katniss brings Johanna’s arm up to the string, and moves her fingers to stabilize the arrow with the string extended. The top of her finger brushes against Johanna’s face as she stretches the string, making her heart race.

“Keep the arrow in between your index and middle finger.” Katniss coaches, “And your hand near your cheek, cable against the corner of your mouth.” She thinks of the cable against her lips, pulling at the corner of her mouth, if she’s doing it right. Katniss closes her eyes as she inhales the smell of Earth in Johanna’s hair. She pictures them lying on the blanket, over Johanna, looking at the sky and branches reflected in her eyes. Her eyes snap open in an effort to concentrate, but she wishes she could be in front of her, to see that oddly erotic sight. “Hold it steady.” She’s instructing Johanna but also talking to her knees, which are starting to shake from her thoughts. She lets go of her hands and steps back, admiring her form. She travels behind Johanna to look at her front positioning. Perfect, she thinks.

“Like the view, Everdeen?” Johanna practically says through her teeth, trying not to move her mouth.

Before Katniss can answer, Johanna releases the arrow, which lands right in Snow’s mouth.

“Not bad.” Johanna remarks as she lowers the bow. “Thanks for teaching me.”

“No problem, Mason.” Katniss is still too flustered to even muster a response to Johanna’s question—and thankfully, the time has passed.

Katniss takes the bow from Johanna and goes to lay it near the blanket, and take a seat herself. She collapses on the blanket and looks up at once-blue sky that is quickly changing to a salmon color. She watches the leaves above her move with the breeze as she lets her mind wander. She chastises herself for being so obvious around Johanna—she wonders how she was ever able to keep a secret ever; how all of Panem didn’t see that what she and Peeta projected was a sham. Well, some of the people in the districts figured it out, she reminds herself—but as for the Capitol residents… they were fooled. Or allowed themselves to be. She didn’t know which.

Johanna’s body appears over her face—high up. Katniss sits up quickly and notices she has her hands cupped with some berries in them. It reminds her of when they were in the arena and Johanna snuck up behind her before giving her some water. She was so anxious in the arena, and didn’t know Johanna like she knows her now; at the time, she was petrified of her, but had to trust her. Either way, the girl knows how to make an entrance, that’s for sure.

“I picked the ones that still looked good” she says, sitting on the blanket and extending her hands to Katniss, who is now upright.

“I love the forest.” Johanna adds, popping a berry into her mouth then inhaling deeply through her nose, taking in the crisp air.

“Me too. I think I would go insane if I couldn’t be out here.” Katniss starts, “I used to hunt every week back home. I would sneak through the District Twelve fence and go into the outside forest to get game.”

“So you’ve always been a rebel?” Johanna winks before she throws a berry into the air, catching it in her mouth. Her tone is sarcastic, a small crack at Katniss.

“Is it as badass when the Capitol never cared to fix the fence? It wasn’t electrified. Pretty easy.”

“Eh, it counts.” She smiles.

“It just always felt like home. It was always there when I needed to get away.”

“I get that.” Johanna says, “I used to spend hours every day out in the trees… walking, swinging, climbing, chopping wood.”

“We’re you always alone?”

Johanna hesitates, she knows what’s coming, “No… you?” An attempt to sway the conversation, though she knows she should throw caution to the wind. She knows Katniss won’t hurt her.

“Usually. Sometimes Gale would come and we’d goof off. Shoot little birds. Sometimes I hated it when he’d come looking for me, though.”

“Who’d you spend time with at home?” Katniss asks. She feels like Johanna knows her entire life—her family, her history, and she knows nothing about Johanna’s. She can’t even picture her having a friend as a kid.

“I only had Rosalie.” The words come out of Johanna’s mouth like a tidal wave—there is no stopping them, or the destruction they may cause.

Katniss is intrigued given their circumstance, but proceeds with caution; she knows there is no one left for her. “Girlfriend?”

“Eventually, yeah.” Johanna inhales deeply, sharply.

“You don’t have to te—”

“No, it’s okay.” She twists her head to face Katniss, “It’s only fair you know more about me. So you can, uh, get me, I guess…”

Katniss looks into her eyes and gives a slight nod, leaving the air open for Johanna.

“She was one of my neighbors and a year ahead of me in school… Her dad ran a farm and had a small maple tapping business. I asked to apprentice under him just to get out of the house more, ‘cause, well…”

“Yeah.”

“Anyway, he put me with Rosie—I was her trainee. We spent a lot of time together and one day she kissed me. It was beautiful. She was beautiful. She was so hard working and had so many dreams and… she cared about me. She was the first person who really cared. She taught me what it was like to love... How to trust people, y’know?” Johanna asks the question to the air—she knows Katniss won’t respond. “I could tell her anything.”

“Did Snow kill her after you won?” There’s no use in dragging it out, Katniss thinks.

“I had just barely arrived back in District Seven and he showed up in my house in the Victor’s Village. He and his security came to my door and he made his way into my kitchen, as if it were his home… and he sat me down. Actually pulled out a chair and put his hands on my shoulders and pushed me into it.” Johanna’s shoulders are itchy thinking about it. “He told me he had an ‘offer’ for me—basically, let him prostitute me in the Capitol and he’d set me up in a house, in a life, better than what I had. When he mentioned I wouldn’t need to be with men all the time, I knew he had been watching me. He pulled up a screen and showed footage of me since I got home… I was so disgusted. There was a video of Rosie and I hugging and kissing in the woods just after I got home, and one at my parent’s house talking to my mom—we were fighting—it was the last time I saw them before they died.

Katniss remembers the exact thing Snow did to her—how he pulled up the video of her and Gale kissing in the alley, as if he could actually use it as leverage. Part of her is surprised she wasn’t propositioned like Johanna was. She’s even more surprised at the enormity of it all—that he even had the gall to proposition her after such a traumatic event. She reminds herself to not be so surprised about the disgusting things people get up to in the Capitol.

“I can’t believe he’d do that to you.”

“He did it to Finnick, too—I’m sure we’re not only two, either.” Johanna breaks it to Katniss, and it only takes her a few seconds to piece it all together.

“But he did it to save Annie, huh?”

“Yeah. He was smart enough to realize the repercussions. I wasn’t as aware. I thought it was really over. I was so stupid.”

“So what did you tell him?”

“I told him, ‘Go fuck yourself, shit breath.’ I was pissed—I stood up and threw the chair I was sitting in at him, but lucky for him I missed. He started to make his way out of the room and he said something, but I was still screaming at him, telling him how disgusting he was… and he said, ‘You don’t understand what you’ve just done’ and walked out. I swear my heart stopped. It’s like he set me up. He knew what I would do.”

“That is so fucking disgusting.” Katniss notices she’s crying, and wipes her tears away before Johanna can see. She can’t believe this is how they are supposed to live—letting anyone become a victim for the Capitol to prey on again and again. She imagines Prim in the same situation and immediately feels sick. But, she reminds herself, that’s why she’s here.

“Once I knew what was happening, I ran out after him and the Peacekeepers, but they were already running ahead and I knew they were going to my parent’s house and maybe Rosie’s. One was waiting for me at the door and he grabbed me before I could go; he choked me and punched me in the ribs and he had such a grip on me that I could barely move—I never knew anyone could be that strong. When Snow heard what was happening he turned around and tipped his hat and said, ‘Good day, Ms. Mason.’ Fucking prick. The Peacekeeper pushed me back inside when I heard the gunshots near my parent’s house and screams from neighbors. The mountains around us make everything echo, so I heard the sounds over and over. It was terrible. They weren’t the best people, but no one deserves what happened to them. I screamed and thrashed but I couldn’t do anything. I knew I wouldn’t be able to hear Rosie, who was miles away at the farm, but I knew they were going for her. I don’t know how long it was before I started to smell smoke—but I found out later that they set my parents house on fire with them in it. The Peacekeeper locked me in the closet under the stairs and I knew then that they weren’t going to kill me—this was all supposed to be a sick lesson for me. It wasn’t until the damage was done and they left that I ran to Rosie’s house to see it and the farm—the barn, the maple trees—on fire.”

“I am so sorry.” Katniss is at a loss for words. Sorry isn’t enough. She can see everything so vividly in her mind; she imagines she would have put herself in the same situation if she were Johanna.

“It didn’t help that I had to be reminded it for three years when I mentored for District Seven. Every year I would see his disgusting face smiling at me. He had me either way and he knew it. I don’t know if I taught those kids anything, but I think about them all the time.”

Katniss thinks about her first mentoring with Haymitch, how useless she thought he was at first. She can only imagine the struggle Johanna had to go through year after year. “There’s only so much you can do.”

There are a few moments where no one speaks. Katniss can hear Johanna sniffling—she is much stronger than anyone gives her credit for. Hearing the quiet noises, Katniss moves closer and wraps her arm around Johanna. When she pulls her in, Johanna lets the tears flow freely.

“I’m sorry about her. But it sounds like the bastard was going to do it all along.”

Johanna sniffs and wipes the tears from her face. “I’ve thought that too.”

“And, yeah,” Johanna continues, “maybe I was avoiding you today. It’s just… I haven’t felt this way in a long time. And you’re different than her… But sometimes the same. I don’t know what to make of it.” The tears keep streaming down her face but for once, Johanna doesn’t try to stop them.

“What do you mean?”

“You’re so beautiful and so brave and so caring. I know you hate the propos and all of this shit, but you do it anyway. You do it for everyone else. For your mom, Prim, Finnick, me… everyone.” She takes a deep breath, her breath hitching, lungs resisting to expand. “And you’ve suffered. You know what it’s like. I feel like this must be what Finnick has with Annie. They get each other through.”

The mention of them makes Katniss smile, “if I ever end up as happy as they are, I think I’ll be alright.”

“Me too.”

“You should have been the Mockingjay.” Katniss says bluntly. “You have so much real fire in you. So much pure rage.”

Johanna can’t help but laugh at the image of herself “Ha! Yeah, I’d be pretty good, huh?” The Caesar Flickerman Show, take two.”

Katniss laughs at the reference—the elegant tree talking shit on national TV. Even that would be better than her propos.

“So, what about Peeta? Did you ever feel right with him?”

“He’s nice, but… it never felt right. I always felt so guilty, like I was leading him on. There’s always been some sort of front with us… we never had the time to figure it out. But at the same time I never wanted to figure it out.”

“Finnick told me the other day that Delly has been working with him and that he’s doing better.”

“That’s good. I’m happy for him. I hope he gets the help he needs—he deserves to live a normal life.” Katniss looks up, noticing that part of the sky is a bright orange. “I hope we could be friends again… but I don’t feel comfortable seeing him after I saw him last.”

“Yeeeeah, plus, you’ve been thinking about someone else, anyway.” She looks up at Katniss and wiggles her eyebrows.

“Mason, you are so weird.” She rubs her palm on her head, running her fingers through Johanna’s short hair.

“Speaking of help,” Katniss continues, “I can help you with the water stuff—enough is enough. I never want to see you like that again, like that day on the field. I want the Johanna Mason who can scare the pants off of everyone back.”

Johanna laughs, but takes the message to heart. She hates the way she’s been manipulated over the years, how Snow has continuously picked on her, year after year to make her life hell—to break her down.

“Yeah.” Johanna places her hand over Katniss’, rubbing her thumb across the top. “It’s time.”

“C’mere.” Katniss grabs Johanna and brings her down with her on the blanket, staring up at the setting sky, hands still connected between them.

“Thank you.”


	5. Rise Like The Tide, No Need To Hide

Katniss finds a fresh pair of towels in the hall closet for Johanna and sets them on the long granite counter in the bathroom. She looks up at the mirror and stares into her reflection’s eyes, taking in a deep breath—she doesn’t know how to tackle this. She’s not a mentor, not a professional, just a girl who loves and wants the best for Johanna. ‘ _Love?’_ She decides she doesn’t have the time to devote to that fleeting thought.

She makes her way to the living room where Johanna is sitting on the small couch, watching the latest developments in the Capitol.

“Ready?”

Johanna’s face snaps to Katniss, who hasn’t noticed she’s entered the room. “Yeah. Be right there.” Johanna quickly turns off the signal and gets up, making her way over to Katniss who hasn’t moved her feet.

She reaches for Johanna’s hand, glancing at it, then back up to her eyes. “You can do this.” She rubs her thumb over the top of her hand for emphasis—she knows Johanna can do this. Even the strongest people need support, she reminds herself. Katniss uproots her feet and moves toward the bathroom, feeling the grip on her hand tightening.

“You’re okay.” Katniss says as they pass over the threshold. “You’re okay with me.”

Johanna unclasps her hand from Katniss’ and jumps on the counter to take a seat, knees pulled up to her face.

“I’m just going to start the water, okay?”

“Okay.” Johanna’s eyes are distant, staring at a fixed point in the wall. The water cascading into the bathtub triggers a myriad of memories: training in the rain; the feeling of her nail breaking into a pine needle and inhaling its scent; one of the capitol officers coming into her cell with the metal rod and a bucket of water; the way Katniss’ pupils widened as she positioned herself above Johanna’s frame earlier in the day, the branches framing her head, sunlight pouring through; her limp body falling against the cold concrete of the cell; catching water droplets with her mouth during a spring sun-shower as a kid—the good and the bad intermingling.

Katniss found a soothing bath soak to ease Johanna into the whole process—balsam fir, something to remind her of home. She puts her hand in the water to make sure the soak disperses evenly and that the temperature isn’t too hot; it needs to be perfect. The strong smell pulls Johanna out of her thoughts and makes her feel at ease—safe. She gently pushes herself off the counter, placing her feet softly on the floor and grips the bottom of her shirt, pulling it over her head. It falls in a crumpled mess on the floor when she begins at her pants—slightly dirt-stained cargo pants for training. The button makes a slight rattling noise and the zipper is stiff, but they fall to the floor with ease, the flimsy button clanging against the tile floor.

The noise makes Katniss turn around from preparing the bath; her mouth eliciting a small squeak, surprised to see Johanna in front of her in only her bra and underwear. Her eyes run down Johanna’s body, noticing the slight protrusion of her ribs and the small waist curvature under the layers of clothing—the same waist she had put her hand on a number of times now, never having the opportunity to feel the flesh. Katniss can feel the redness creep into her cheeks and the small shivers she’s trying to control in her core. She’s always admired how confident in her body Johanna was—how she used it as a weapon. _‘She must be in a bad place to not take care of herself, then’_ Katniss thinks.

It’s then that Johanna reaches behind her back and unclasps her bra, moving her arms through the straps one-by-one, finally letting it, too, fall to the floor. Johanna can see the affect she’s having on Katniss, who sits on the floor, stunned.

“Don’t look so bashful, Everdeen—it’s not anything you haven’t seen before.” Katniss’ eyes widen, though she has seen her bare chest before, but not in this way. No matter what, it seems, she’ll always have her snark, even when on the edge of losing it.

Katniss’ eyes shoot up to Johanna’s, who are slightly squinting from her wide smile— _‘Damn, she’s proud of making me feel this way!’_ Katniss thinks, but “It… uh, should be ready,” is all she can muster to speak.

Johanna stares into the clear water, made a tinted blue by the scented soak. _‘It’s different.’_ She reminds herself, trying to relax her pounding heart. _‘It’s not a bucket, for one, and it’s not ice cold. I can do this.’_ She steps closer to the bathtub filled with water, eyes still fixed on the ripples created by the drops still falling from the tap.

Katniss lets her move in front of her, back facing Katniss, and tries to keep her eyesight above shoulder length—she would hope for the same decency, though she’s not sure if Johanna would care.

“Let’s do this.” Johanna commands, already angry at the way she’s feeling. Katniss didn’t really have a set plan in mind; she figured she’d just do what Johanna would want her to do. Or not do what she didn’t want her to do. Johanna moves her hand back to reach for Katniss’, while the thumb on her other hand links under her underwear and pulls them down a bit so they fall to the ground easily.

Katniss quickly becomes very aware of her body—not because Johanna isn’t clothed, but because she is _completely_ clothed. _‘You can’t take a bath with your clothes on, you idiot.’_ Katniss harasses herself for not thinking this through. “One minute.” She says to Johanna as she takes her hand back.

Johanna turns her head back just in time to see Katniss pulling her shirt over her head, demonstrating how well she fills out her underclothes. Katniss locks eyes with Johanna as she moves for the button on her pants, which makes her feel as though her heart jumped to her throat. Johanna looks so lost and needy, but ready—unsure what she may face, but ready to defeat whatever may come.

“You don’t have to get as undressed as me.” Johanna assures.

“It’s just a body.” Katniss feigns—but this is the best opportunity to practice her confidence. Plus, she reminds herself, it _is_ just a body—there are more important things to do than impress right now. Who cares about the random scrapes on her body? The peach fuzz on her legs? Johanna is clearly confident enough with her body, which is just a bit hairier and more scraped up than her own. Thankfully, though, Johanna turns around when Katniss removes her underwear out of respect, though Johanna is surprised she would bare herself this much.

Her hand finds Johanna’s again, her signal that she’s ready, too. “Are you alright?”

“Yeah. Let’s do this.”

Katniss lifts up her foot and places it in the water—it’s a little hotter than what she expected, and it makes the rest of her body feel cold in comparison. “It’s a bit hot,” she says. Johanna is almost relieved—at least it’s not the ice cold buckets thrown at her. Once she has two feet in, she helps Johanna in slowly.

Johanna can see the larger ripples from Katniss’ entrance, smaller versions of those in the arena. She remembers trying to open her eyes under the water, in case there were weapons she could grab, but the water was saltier than what she was used to—it stung so much she had to come up and clear her eyes as she swam. She hoped this experience would be better. Still holding Katniss’ hand, she makes her way into the water, first her foot hovering over the water, then dipping in very slowly, letting her body adjust to the temperature. Her skin is still sensitive and the nerves seize when they react to the water, creating goosebumps to break out across her body. She can feel her nipples rise with the rest of her skin; the skin making creases of nerves bundle together. She slides her other foot in with equal grace and hesitation, still gripping Katniss’ hand, knuckles white.

When she’s stable, Katniss places her other hand on Johanna’s waist, motioning for her to sit down, covering her legs with the water. “Sit down when you’re ready, I’ll be behind you.” Johanna slides her free hand on the wall to stabilize herself, her fingers leaving marks on the steamy surface as she ventures down. The water almost resists Johanna’s skin—she can see how it nearly folds over and downward on her dry skin, but it all changes when it’s had its first touch of the liquid. She’s aware of her slightly fuzzy legs even more as they go under the water, the miniscule hair moving in the waves she’s creating. Katniss begins downward behind her, eventually sitting down, putting her legs on either side of Johanna, who has her legs slightly bent, toes touching the drain.

“You okay?”

“It smells so great. Kind of like home.”

“And the water?”

“You make it better.”

Johanna lets her arms fall into the water completely, submerging them in the warming scented soak, rubbing the pads of her fingers together in a circular pattern, almost studying the water. Her skin felt so sensitive, but this sense was different than the one she experienced in the Capitol—this water didn’t have ice shards in it, lacerating her skin when it was thrown on her just before she was shocked. This water was softer and gentler, just like baths she prepared for herself at home as a kid with bubble bath. And, of course, it was nicer, easier with Katniss there. There were a few bubbles here—maybe just as much as she had when she was a kid, but her size now made everything seem smaller. She scooped up a bunch and brought them to her nose to smell, then gave a gentle blow at them, sending them to the wall in front of her. Katniss couldn’t help but smile at the sight—it wasn’t totally traumatic and terrible for her—she was even slightly enjoying it.

“Do you want me to wash your hair?”

Johanna wanted to rid herself of the filth, but she was nervous she’d have a flashback when the water touched her neck; feeling the pain she felt on the field the day before. She put her hand over her neck and turned around slightly to look Katniss in the eye, bearing her front to her again.

“I’m nervous it’ll hurt my neck… and I’ll do something.” She stated.

“I’ll go slow. You can keep that covered.” Katniss began, gesturing to Johanna’s hand. “Tell me if you want me to stop.” Then, without thinking, she bent her head down and placed a kiss on Johanna’s shoulder. “I promise I won’t hurt you. Let me know if you’re uncomfortable and I’ll stop.”

Johanna gives a weak smile and turns around to face the wall, hand still covering her neck.

Katniss take this as a signal to begin, so she cups her hands with water and begins to pour it over Johanna’s head, wetting her hair. After the fourth pour or so, Johanna thought it felt like the rain, the way it ran down her face. Katniss made sure to wet her hair completely, then put a small dollop of shampoo in her hands, then brought her hands to Johanna’s scalp to lather it in.

In reality, she liked taking care of Johanna like this—Katniss liked to pretend she was strong, but realized within the past year that everyone needs help—even the strongest person can’t be strong forever. Sometimes they need someone to help them. It’s not something to be embarrassed about, she finally accepted, especially when there were so many around her willing to help if she took the offer, she just had to open her eyes to see it. She was glad Johanna took hers.

The shampoo lathered easily, and a little too much, Katniss thought. She took the opportunity to scoop some suds from Johanna’s head into her hands and leave two sudsy peaks on her chest, just above her actual breasts.

“Hey!” Johanna exclaimed, “Everdeen!” She whipped around with her teeth on her lower lip and as Katniss laughed, she raised her hand to her head to grab some bubbles of her own—when she had a proper handful she smacked them on Katniss’ chest, leaving remnants of soapy handprints just below her collarbones, making Katniss cackle louder this time. When Johanna’s bubbly hands reached up to her underarms to tickle Katniss, she yelled, kicking her legs as much as she could in the confined space; “No! No! No!” Katniss squealed through yelps, “Stop!” Johanna stopped at her command and joined Katniss in breathless laughter. The movement made some of the suds move down her face and neck, touching her sensitive spot. It was a little sore to the touch, but didn’t feel as bad as yesterday.

“Rinse yourself and your bubbly unibrow, Mason!” Katniss laughed out again, but made sure to clarify, “I can do it too, if you want.”

Johanna stared at the soapy water below her, the bubble bath suds diminished, but the lather on her head was quickly traveling down her face. She held her nose—not that it was necessary, but as a precaution—and began to move toward the water rapidly, but she stopped as the back of her hand touched the surface. Katniss, who was rinsing the bubbles off her chest, saw Johanna’s halting movement.

“It won’t hurt you. No one is here to hurt you.” She placed a cautious hand on her back.

The touch was enough to make Johanna conquer her fears and plunge face-first into the water, nose still plugged, shaking her head underneath to make sure everything was rinsed. She flung her head up, her lungs struggling to gain oxygen, pumping fast and hard. Her eyes shoot open, slightly soapy water running along the creases, corners, and into her eyes. It stings only slightly—but the feeling of having plunged into the water makes her feel revitalized, alive. Katniss instinctually puts a hand on Johanna’s shoulder to stabilize her, to reassure her of where she was and that she was safe. She remembers the Jabberjay hour in the arena—although Peeta couldn’t help her now, not that she would want his help now—it was nice to have someone next to her, separated, but still next to her, trying to help.

Johanna’s breath slows back to normal and she runs her hand through her short hair, pushing the wet and longer strands out of her eyes. When she relaxes, Katniss’ hand moves from her shoulder to her chest, and Katniss gives a soft tug, pulling Johanna back so her head is resting on her breasts.

“Thanks for today.”

Katniss’ breath hitches at the realization of their sudden closeness. “Anything for you, Mason.”

They lie in that position for a long time; drawing figures on each other’s body and swapping stories until the water no longer keeps them warm enough to justify pruning up any longer.

 

Katniss gets up first to get the towels ready, Johanna gives her room and averts her eyes to the water once more, looking at the small bits of sand and dirt pooling near the drain. Just as Katniss grabs a towel for her, she leans back, completely submerging her body for the first time in weeks. It’s only for a few seconds, but it resets her mind, a step to understanding that water isn’t the enemy. A weapon, maybe, but not the enemy. It’s like a warm blanket on her skin, keeping her protected from the cold air above. ‘ _This is a step’_ , she thinks, reminding herself that it isn’t always going to be this easy, that sometimes you need to do it on your own. Someday she may not have Katniss.

She sits up quickly, removing her body from under the water to see Katniss holding out a towel out and smiling proudly at Johanna. Johanna takes the towel and runs it over her choppy hair first, then moves to her body, blotting the water off her body from the top down. Katniss is facing the mirror, ridding her hair of tangles when she is distracted by Johanna again. She looks away once, trying to focus on her hair, but her eyes quickly art back to Johanna’s legs as she’s bent over drying herself, then to her back—her spine protruding, breasts hanging heavy. Katniss feels her stomach seize up, as if it becomes one big knot, her heart joining in on the madness—it’s beating reverberating throughout her body. When Johanna finishes she looks up, just catching Katniss readjusting her focus to her own face and hair. _‘Stop being so obvious, Everdeen,’_ she chastises herself. What she doesn’t notice is the smirk on Johanna’s face—the one that would surely embarrass Katniss—and the way Johanna admires her shoulders as she brushes the tougher tangles out of her hair. Watching the way her muscles move in her back is like admiring artwork; her shoulder blades occasionally making an appearance from under the towel, accentuating her smooth, olive-toned skin.

 

**********

 

“Hey! You can’t just do that!” Katniss’ gravelly voice raises—she thought it was humorous that it always got deeper and rougher the later into the night.

“What? Slap my own card?!”

“No, you’re cheating, I can tell!” Her damp hair hangs on one of her shoulders, causing a wet imprint on her shirt.

“Me? A cheater?” Johanna has her head faced downward, eyes rolled up to meet Katniss’, raising her eyebrows. A perfect playful glare. “Prove it!”

“Every time you slap the pile you gather them so the top card is on the bottom. So you’ll know it’s last!” Katniss’ points at her accusingly, taking it almost too seriously. “You have to shuffle!”

“Relax, Everdeen! You’re like the Peacekeeper of Card Games!” Johanna laughs out. “You gonna spank me for cheating?”

Katniss grabs the pillow closest to her and throws it at Johanna’s face “You are perverted! And I’m not that crazy about it… Rules are rules!”

“You’re a sore loser!” Johanna quips, breathless from the laughing pains in her sides. “Plus, you like my perverted mind.”

Katniss looks away from her and at the blank wall, trying to stifle the smirk inching its way on her face. “Shut up, Mason.”

A few moments pass as the young women clear up the cards that had been pushed off the bed by the pillow and when Katniss gives her pile to Johanna, Johanna lets out a loud yawn. “Ugh, I’m beat Everdeen.”

“Yeah, I can tell,” Katniss laughs, “You’ve had an adventurous day.”

Johanna shuffles her legs over to the side opposite of Katniss—it’s funny, she could go to her own bed, but, for once in her life, she enjoys the closeness. Getting space was always very important to Johanna: emotional space and physical space—she often preferred the forest to her childhood home because of that constant, urgent need for space. But Katniss was like a magnet to her skin—she liked to be around her, she made her feel wanted, necessary, nice, _loved_.

Katniss grabs the previously thrown pillow and places it back on her side, propping it up before slithering under the covers. She turns to face Johanna, who is angled toward her, eyes closed. She brushes the hair from her face and out of her eyes.

“I’m proud of you.” Katniss says softly, almost a whisper, while she runs her thumb across her freshly washed face. “You are so… important to me.”

Johanna’s eyes flutter open when she pauses—she can feel the beads of tears prickling her eyelids, but she won’t let them come out.

Katniss leans her face into Johanna’s, hovering over her mouth with her own. Johanna looks into her eyes intensely, watching her pupils dilate and overtake the greenish grey color her irises have adapted that night.

“I’m sorry.” Katniss pulls back quickly and turns to shut off the light.

Johanna reaches out to her when Katniss lies on her back, placing her hand on Katniss’ stomach.

“Don’t be.” It’s then that Johanna leans her body into Katniss’ and places a kiss on her lips, hand still firm on her stomach, feeling the intense pulse reverberating in her stomach. Katniss wraps the arm closest to Johanna around her, placing her hand on the back of Johanna’s head, giving her another kiss, which makes her feel weightless, as if she’s left her body.

Johanna stays there, head nestled in the crook Katniss has made for her and leaves her hand on Katniss’ stomach. She feels her scratch and tousle her scruffy hair, which makes her breath slow, easing her into sleep.

As she drifts off, Johanna thinks of Rosie and compares her to Katniss—not in a bad way, she could never do that—but she realizes that she is a different person now. Even if she were alive, Johanna doesn’t know if she would deserve Rosie—people who come back after the Games are changed for good, and Rosie didn’t deserve to have to take care of her their whole life—worry about when she may have a panic attack or lash out at someone. She doesn’t deserve someone as pure as Rosie, she thinks—as someone who manipulated people through the Games, fooled everyone. She saw the way Rosie looked at her when she came to the Victor’s Village after winning—she kissed her, she remembers how wonderful she tasted; how much she missed the feeling of touching someone like that, but she couldn’t feel the full passion in her touches anymore. While it’s only natural to question someone’s motives and trust after the Games, what non-tributes don’t understand is that you really do whatever you do to survive; they hear it but they don’t know what it really means. That instinct kicks in and nothing matters except surviving. It’s the one of most raw reactions we have.

But the difference between Rosie and Katniss is that Katniss knows what it’s like. She knows how people can judge you—even for the fairly innocent kills Katniss made compared to Johanna’s more brutal ones, you will always be seen as a brute, a killer. People will look at you with admiration and fear forever. She knows what it means to suffer; she was traumatized, too.

 

**********

 

Katniss awakes from her light sleep when she feels a tug on her shirt, the front of her shirt almost gone—balled up in Johanna’s fist. She realizes Johanna is sweating profusely, muttering and whining in her sleep.

“No…” Her feet start kicking wildly, pushing Katniss off the bed, but Johanna is still attached to her shirt, which pulls at Katniss’ neck awkwardly.

The whimpering gets louder and louder as her body movements become more aggressive. She finally lets go of Katniss’ shirt, sending Katniss to crash to the ground. She looks at Johanna in amazement and terror—She said she’s never dreamt before. Is that what she looks like? Should she wake her up? Johanna looks possessed writhing on the bed; her once balled-up fist is now grasping in the air for anything to hold onto and her she begins to yell, “NO!” over and over.

A buzzing sound fills Johanna’s mind, _‘They must have opened the tracker jackers to Peeta again,’_ she thinks. She looks to the small window on her cell door to look for signs of the masked officials with the portable beehive box for proof but can’t see anything from her bed. When she tries to set her legs on the cell floor, they fall from under her and she is suddenly under water—water that she soon realizes is electric eel filled when she feels a sharp shock to the ribs. She tries to fight her way to the top but the eels tie her arms behind her as she screams into the water, the electric pain radiating through her body becoming too much to handle.

Something scares the eels off though, and she can open her eyes, seeing the sun shining through the surface of the water in slow motion. She kicks and paddles violently up to the surface, and when her head breaks into the air, she finds herself on the sand—the hot sand full of sand fleas, biting at her skin. She rolls onto her back, staring up at the palm trees above her, chest heaving as she tries to catch as much air in her lungs as they can hold. When she opens her eyes she sees a beautiful blue and black bird looking at her closely, studying her, head moving back and forth and opening its beak, but no sound comes out. She squints to see it better, her eyes becoming a telescope as she looks into the bird’s eyes, seeing the computerized screen glitch behind the shiny eyes—or maybe a circuit becoming activated.

It locks eyes with her as a scream rings out of its beak and it’s off—grabbing the attention of its flock as it swoops and pecks at Johanna, screaming into her ear, the other birds joining in the attack. It takes her a moment to realize the screams are Katniss’. They’re blood curdling screams; she can feel her own vocal cords straining listening to Katniss’ own—she can feel the same intensity, the slightly wet bubbling coming from her throat, much unlike Peeta’s dry hollers in pain. This is something so raw and unexpected.

She stands up and screams back at them out of frustration and to drown them out. She turns to run to the water to drown out the sound when they start pecking at her skin, taking turns pecking at her neck; she decides no matter what may attack her in the water—she can’t bear to hear Katniss’ screams any longer. When she runs to the shore, it seems to get just slightly farther away with each step, and when she takes the time to look, the cornucopia has been replaced with Rosie’s family barn on fire—fire which is quickly spreading on the water. Her knees give out and she collapses to the sandy ground, covering her ears with her hands and puts her head on the wet sand, screaming for an end.

Johanna feels her body being thrown from the sand and shaken in the dream, but hears a voice—a voice hovering over the dream like an announcer, a game maker.

“Johanna!”

She can feel pressure on her shoulders, her body being pushed deep, resisting, and then bouncing back up.

Her eyes shoot open to see a figure above her and she feels the all-too-real pressure on her shoulders, hair brushing her face.

“I’m here! It’s Katniss! I’m here! You’re okay!” Katniss can see Johanna’s eyes are open, but she looks like a zombie—face completely emotionless.

Johanna’s eyes adjust to the darkness and she sees Katniss’ face above her, properly.

“Are you okay? You’re burning up…” Katniss moves off of her, creating a slight breeze that runs over Johanna’s sweaty body causing her sensitive skin to make instant goosebumps, though her skin was still hot to the touch—too sweaty to go under the covers.

“You dreamt, didn’t you?” Katniss says after a few moments of silence.

Johanna is still bewildered, still trying to adjust to her lucid thoughts and surroundings. “Yeah, I did.” Some of the details rush to her again, flashing on the back of her eyelids with every blink; the images creating burgeoning tears to form in her ducts. If this is what it was like she never wanted it to happen again.

“You dreamt about me, didn’t you?” Katniss asks, her voice low and soft, a whisper.

The comment throws Johanna—how did she know? Was it like when Katniss had her nightmare?

“You were screaming my name. Telling me to stop. Telling someone to stop. Stop doing something.” Katniss takes the silent lull as a cue.

“No.” Johanna says quickly. “It wasn’t you... Someone was torturing you. I think.”

“And you wanted it to stop?” Katniss says a little too quickly. _‘Damn it, Everdeen, it’s not the time. What is up with you?_ ’ she yells in her mind.

Johanna lets out a pensive sigh in response, “It was terrible. I don’t know if they were torturing you… but there were jabberjays like in the arena. But in my Capitol cell, but still in the arena… I don’t know.”

Katniss places her hand gently on Johanna’s shoulder, stroking her only now damp skin up and down.

“I’m sorry,” Katniss starts, “But thankfully, nightmares end. And not all dreams are terrible.” She continues to stroke Johanna’s arm, now lightly with the tips of her fingers, feeling the arms on her hair stand on end. “Sometimes I have peaceful dreams of lying in the wildflowers, looking up in the clouds, feeling totally weightless and free.”

“Well, having loved ones tortured was not a good introduction.” The words come out of her mouth before Johanna has really processed them—what did she just say? “I mean—I’m sorr—not like—I mean—FUCK!”

Katniss’ arm drops, stopping the light touches, which Johanna notices immediately. Her face drops slightly—it’s small but noticeable. “It’s okay. I get it.” She’s disappointed, but she really does get it. She can understand that Johanna wouldn’t be ready, _‘Hell,’_ Katniss thinks, _‘I don’t know if I’m really ready.’_

“I care. I care about you and I’m afraid of that.” Johanna takes in a deep breath and puts her hand gently on Katniss’. “Everyone I love gets taken away from me.”

“I’m not going anywhere.” Katniss says forcefully.

“Don’t make promises you can’t keep.”

Katniss doesn’t say a word, but wraps her arm around Johanna’s neck, and they both settle down into their original positions—Johanna’s hand on Katniss’ stomach, her head nestled in the crook of her neck. Her hand can feel Katniss’ heartbeat in her stomach once again, and slowly her hand adopts the same beating pressure; a gentle lullaby to send her off to sleep, blank eyelids covering tired and scared eyes.

 _‘Yeah… love,’_ Katniss thinks as she drifts off.


	6. Teardrop On The Fire, Fearless On My Breath

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is dedicated to a very important person in my life who died tragically last week. Thank you for teaching me what it means to be a writer and inspiring me every day. You will continue to be remembered, loved and missed.

Johanna finds herself in the warm soapy water with Katniss again. It’s only been a day and a half, but she likes the routine they’re adopting: sharing meals, training, and sleeping together. She knows she’s not cured—especially after the dream—but she’s learning to feel again. The newfound strength is liberating in her seemingly never-ending quest to conquer what Snow has done to her over the years; the next step coming to fruition in the final simulation the following morning.

Katniss made sure the experience was as cautious as last time, making sure Johanna was comfortable above anything else. She was surprised when she opened her eyes after rinsing her hair that Johanna was staring at her, pupils wide, watching the water rush over her body. Katniss found some pleasure in this—it was always nice to be desired by someone you crave. When she met Johanna’s eyes with her own, Johanna lifted herself up and moved toward Katniss, eventually towering over her to plant a kiss square on the younger woman’s lips. The force was enough to send Katniss back a little, head resting on the edge of the tub, eliciting a moan when Johanna took her bottom lip into her mouth, flicking it with her tongue. Katniss lay in the water, breasts peeking up above the water, less than an inch away from Johanna’s, which were hanging heavy above her own. The kiss stirred something in both of them—Johanna immediately feeling slight twitches in her legs when Katniss moaned into her mouth. Katniss was used to the urging feeling to do more, but never felt totally comfortable doing anything but kissing with Gale. But now her hands roamed freely on Johanna’s wet back and sides, making their way to her front.

It was Johanna, though, who broke the kiss and contact. It wasn’t the right moment, she thought—though the wetness developing between her legs would strongly disagree with her if it could. Besides, if Katniss went any further down they’d have to learn to breathe underwater to finish. She gave a smirk before rinsing some suds from her body and getting out. They both needed energy for the simulation in the morning, anyway, Johanna thought.

Katniss couldn’t help feeling frustrated—in the best way—but the idea of her first time with Johanna in a bathtub was less than desirable, though her body clearly had no problem with it. When she settled into bed with Johanna, she looked at their schedules for the next day, hers read: 0900 – Breakfast, 1025 – Final Simulation, and Johanna’s: 0900 – Breakfast, 1005 – Final Simulation.

“You’re before me in the simulation test.” Katniss mentions to Johanna, who is lying in the usual crook of her shoulder. “You ready?”

“More than ready.” Johanna says a little too confidently. “I can’t wait to drive my bayonet into simulated flesh. Closest to an axe they’ll give me.”

“You’re not nervous?” Deep down, Katniss is surprised she isn’t even a little. Afraid she may encounter something that’ll trigger her memories of the Capitol, or the past. Though, she doesn’t know how they would do that.

“I need this, Katniss.” Johanna has loses her playful tone and adopts a lower, desperate one. “I need to see him go down with my own eyes.”

And just like that she remembers Johanna’s driving force. The death, the fire, the torture. She remembers what she needs to be fighting for. Her own family, freedom, so no one has to live like this, she thinks as she looks around at her surroundings. Underground, in fear.

Johanna usually falls asleep first, and always in the same position: head just below shoulder, left hand on Katniss’ stomach, left leg bent slightly over Katniss. She hasn’t remembered any dreams, Katniss notes to herself, but that doesn’t stop the powerful twitches and frequent movements that come with Johanna’s new heightened nightly brain activity. She stretches to reach the light to switch it off, and feels the slight pressure of Johanna’s hand on her stomach pulling her back, emitting smile before she drifts off.

 

**********

 

Johanna dragged Katniss to the simulation room sooner than necessary—she had barely finished her grayish sludge disguised at oatmeal before Johanna started begging to make their way to the waiting area.

“Please, can we go now?!” Johanna tapped her fingers on the table furiously when Katniss’ spoon hit the empty bowl’s bottom. She noticed Katniss looking at her fingers on the table and traded the tapping for a bouncing leg and fiddling with her bottom lip. If Katniss didn’t know any better, she’d think she were in the worst of her withdrawal again.

“I would tell you we still have twenty minutes,” Katniss starts, “but I know that won’t make you stop.”

“Aw, aren’t you glad you know me so well now, Everdeen?” She punctuates the slightly sarcastic remark with her signature sly smile.

Katniss eyerolls. “Fine, let’s go.” It’s not fair that she gets immensely cuter when she uses her sarcastic drawl, she thinks.

Johanna grabs Katniss’ hand as if she’s going to pull her across the table, “Yes! Yes! Let’s go!” Johanna practically _jumps_ out of her seat, and Katniss wishes she were even a tenth as motivated to run the simulation. For once, she wishes she had the unadulterated rage that Johanna has—she really _should_ have been the Mockingjay.

When they arrive at the center, the waiting area is packed—filled with chairs, very similar to the waiting area for the Games skills assessment to calculate their training scores. She hears someone’s name over the loudspeaker joined by a figure standing who is escorted into the simulation room.

Johanna finds Finnick waiting in the corner of the room with a steely expression on his face.

“Hey, Odair” Johanna says, pulling Finnick out of a deep train of thought. He gives a gentle smile, but still worried.

“Hey ladies—when are you going in?”

“1005” Johanna states, followed by Katniss, “1025”

“Looks like I’m sandwiched in between you fine women—1015”

“Ten minutes?” Johanna throws out the rhetorical question to the pair. “Not bad.”

“They must be concentrated.” Finnick adds, “Like they’re testing for specific things.”

“Like what? Combat strategies?” Johanna asks.

“Could be anything.” Finnick has a thousand-yard stare at the entrance door.

Katniss can’t help but think of what Finnick has said—What would they test her on? Katniss notices how eerie it is that no one comes back into the room when they’re finished, just like the Games. For the rebellion, they operate so similarly to the Capitol. _‘They don’t want us to know what’s_ _coming.’_ Katniss thinks.

“Mason.” The voice over the loudspeaker is deep, serious, curt.

Johanna stands up from her chair and looks at Katniss—after all the talk, her eyes look terrified. She moves in front of Finnick, to the end of the aisle.

“Good luck.” He offers to her.

“Thanks.”

As she passes in front of Katniss, her hand reaches down slightly to touch hers. Katniss gives her hand a squeeze— _‘I love you. Do good. Be safe.’_ It says with a touch. Finnick can’t help but notice the hand touch, the way they’re looking so intently at each other. Even though he’s on edge, the sight provides some amusing relief.

Johanna looks back at Katniss one more time before she’s escorted into the simulation room.

“What was that about, Mockingjay?” Finnick asks with his signature shining grin.

“What was what?” Katniss can’t even make eye contact with him as the blush creeps into her cheeks. Damn, she’s so easy to read, she thinks.

“Don’t even try it.” Finnick laughs out. “That touch. Those looks.”

“I’m just worried about her. She has a bad dream about the Capitol… about hearing jabberjays imitating me. I just want her to be okay. I don’t want her to relapse.”

“So? It’s just a dream.” Finnick looks genuinely curious—waiting for Katniss to explain herself.

“She told me she’s never dreamt before.”

In all the years he knew Johanna, he never knew that fact. He knew countless others, but that wasn’t one of them; though, it’s not as though he was the dream analysis type, anyway. “That must have been hard for her…” Finnick trails off. “But, interesting, no? What have you two been up to trigger that?” He turns his head to Katniss.

He knows, for sure, he just wants Katniss to say it. “She must care an awful lot about you to dream something like that… You remember how terrible those things are.”

“Yeah, she does care.” Katniss says before looking at him. “I care a lot about her too.”

 

**********

 

Johanna walks into the room and hears the heavy door latch behind her—she’s alone, save for the voices coming from her headset.

“Mason, head SouthEast. Lay low for two blocks, and then find the entrance near the stairs.”

“Copy.” Johanna hands start shaking—she wasn’t nervous until she heard the voices.

She squats down, looking around her to make sure no simulated enemies can sneak up behind her. Just as she’s twenty yards out, back against a building wall, the rain begins to pour; the raindrops are so big they feel like hail on her skin, and it’s cold—ice cold. When she looks for snipers above her she notices the flashes of light in the rain clouds above her, just in time to distract her from a figure crouching behind the corner of a building. She reacts quickly—pointing her gun and shooting a half a round to be safe. When she knows the figure falls and disappears from the street she continues.

The thunder rumbles after a few steps after her kill and she knows what’s coming. _‘Fucking bastards.’_ She thinks—they don’t care about her shot. Just remember last night, she reminds herself—she and Katniss in the warm water, their naked bodies close together, the smell of the trees surrounding them. Then, a loud crack and a flash of light appears a street or so away, she estimates. The sight leaves her momentarily blinded with big spots in her vision, which was already altered by the rain.

“Nice shot, Mason. Stay focused. Your target is nearby.”

“Copy.” Her mind is so blank she’s surprised her brain mustered the power to respond.

She sees the stairwell in her field of vision—about thirty yards away. She keeps her body close to the wall, looking out for enemies. Just before she enters the uncovered stairwell, she shoots two snipers on a building adjacent to her and heads down the stairs. The rain starts harder, creating the already semi-flooded area at the bottom of the stairwell to rise quickly, now at her knees. There must be pumps in the walls to make it rise this fast, Johanna thinks.

Johanna’s skin feels frozen—the rain is so cold, and the adrenaline pumping through her veins isn’t doing much to keep her warm; it does make her heart race, though. Her legs begin to feel as if she were standing barefoot in a pile of snow, and her neck burns for the first time in days. The water starts to rush down the stairs and rise above her knees when she fiddles with the handle of the door which is jammed from the pressure of the quickly rushing water. Her heart starts to race faster, and the feeling in her legs—whatever is left—becomes weak, as if she can’t buckle her knees. She desperately tries to slam the door with whatever strength she has left in her body. When the door flies open she falls into the room with the rushing of the water, pulling her like the ocean’s tide. She’s left on her back, feeling the cold and wet concrete on the back of her head, and tries to situate herself with the slight light coming in from the doorway. She turns her head to see exposed wires coming from the wall and they start to spark and flash in her face. In an instant, she feels her neck tense and everything goes black.

 

**********

 

Everyone in the room looks out to the hallway, upon hearing a loud commotion. Soldiers start to rise from their seats, but the guard in the room stands firmly in front of the door, blocking anyone from looking, let alone leaving.

“Get a doctor and a stretcher—she’s had a seizure!” A voice hollers down the hall. “And warmers! Her lips are blue!”

Katniss’ heart jumps into her throat—something must have triggered her in there. If she’s wet, there must have also been shocks—water might have been enough for the reaction, Katniss thinks, but there must have been something else for her to react this violently.

“They’re testing our weaknesses. Our fears. They’re testing them.” Katniss mutters.

“What?” Finnick says lowly.

“They used water on her… and probably electric shocks, or the threat of it at least.” She tries to keep her voice low and in between them, but it cuts out as she tries to hold back from sobbing.

 

**********

 

The door out of the Commanders office slams against the wall as Katniss runs into the hall, Finnick trailing behind her, trying to catch her, knowing exactly where she is off to. The way she was rolling on her feet to her ankles, wringing her hands together—if they both weren’t whisked away immediately after the simulation, he knows Katniss would have gone sooner. He would have, too.

The news about the upcoming combat runs through Katniss’ brain as she whips around corners, her speed making the whisps of hair fly back. _‘She’s going to be devastated’_ Katniss thinks—she knows how much going to the Capitol meant to her, even if she wouldn’t have the final shot. She would give it to her, she thinks, if she makes it through this. Katniss continues to run through the hallways, disregarding orders to slow down—everything feels like slow motion and she’s running on autopilot, hoping to arrive at Johanna’s side.

She nearly bowls over a mother and sick child toddling into the hospital entrance when she goes through the doors.

“Where is she?” Katniss barks at a nearby nurse.

Mrs. Everdeen, who has come into the reception area from a corridor, walks over to Katniss cautiously, extending an arm. “Katniss,” her hand touches Katniss’ shoulder, “you need to calm down.” Katniss is shocked by her mother’s touch—she hasn’t been quite the empathetic type since Mr. Everdeen died, never mind how she is ordering Katniss to behave: a motherly quality she hasn’t nurtured in years, maybe ever.

Finnick arrives shortly after. “Is she okay?” he asks, bypassing the receptionist and group of nurses to speak to Mrs. Everdeen directly.

Mrs. Everdeen’s eyes dart between the two before she finally answers, “Come with me.”

On the way she explains what happened—or at least, what she gathered that happened to Johanna in the simulation based on her diagnosis. “She’s stable now. She’s had a few minor injuries and is still warming up.”

Katniss laid eyes on the seemingly lifeless body on the hospital bed through the glass and felt her stomach knot up. She studied the many tubes and wires going to and from Johanna’s body to the various machines hooked up around her.

“She’s sedated right now.” Mrs. Everdeen states, “She needs it.”

“Can I go in?”

Mrs. Everdeen notices the longing in Katniss’ eyes, an image she hasn’t seen before. She’s missed so much of her growing up she thinks as she looks at the tears pooling in Katniss’ tear ducts—they were always so distant from each other. She studies the angles in her daughter’s face, as if she’s trying to see the transformation from the once plump little girl’s cheeks to the womanly, angled cheekbones she sees in front of her. She grew up the second that mine blew up, but in front of her is a full-fledged woman, not her little girl. A woman who she can’t bear to hinder any longer.

“Quietly. One at a time.” Mrs. Everdeen steals a look at Finnick, looking for approval, before she scurries off the hallway.

Katniss’ hand is on the knob of the door the second she turns away. Her white knuckles show how hard she is holding onto the handle, careful to open it slowly as to not disturb Johanna. She shuts the door with the same attention and creeps into a chair next to her bed. The tears roll down her face freely when she’s in front of her, helpless. She tenderly slips her hand into Johanna’s still-cold one, the temperature shocking her even more, creating a sob to come out of her mouth, followed by more tears.

“Johanna. Please be okay.” Katniss pleads. “If you can hear me, I’ll be here until you wake up. I promise.” Liquid runs down her nose and she wipes it away with her sleeve.

“Johanna, I love you. You’re going to be okay.” Katniss’ body is shaking with fury—pure rage directed at Coin, Snow, even Plutarch. Anyone who made her suffer. She presses her lips to Johanna’s hand, leaving a few teardrops behind.

Finnick can’t help but observe the sight through the blinds, his heart panging with sadness to see the it. He’s known Johanna for years now and never saw anyone get so close to her. He never saw her actively seek someone out; actively touch another person as she did with Katniss earlier in the day. She was never abashed of her sexuality—often Finnick would gossip about his female suitors and they would talk about the attractiveness of some women, especially after a few drinks. But Finnick never saw her get close to anyone after her Games. A couple meaningless encounters here and there, he assumes, but nothing where she let herself be loved. He sees Johanna lying there, unable to respond to Katniss’ pleads, but he can already see how much they mean to each other. The way Katniss holds Johanna’s limp hand, the way she brushes the hair out of her face, the way she tucks her body into the blanket just for good measure, the way she grips Johanna’s hand twice before she leaves. If only her mother could see her now, he thinks.

Katniss opens the door, head up and eyes forward, locking on Finnick’s as she exits the room: her face falling into a semi-frightened countenance at the sight of him.

“Didn’t know you were still here.”

“Yup, Mockingjay… Still here.” Katniss looks at his positioning—how he’s leaning against the wall directly across from Johanna’s window. _‘Great.’_ Katniss thinks. It’s not that she’s ashamed to bear herself with Johanna, it’s the fact that she can never seem to get away from the eyes of the masses. But Finnick isn’t the issue, or the masses, she reminds herself. It’s not his fault for noticing. And the damn man is grinning from ear to ear.

“So, you saw…”

“Katniss, I already figured before that... lovely display.” Katniss looks up to a comical wink to match his grin. “The way you two look at each other…” He trails off, looking into Johanna’s room, at her chest slowly rising and falling. “It’s probably the same look I have when I look at Annie. And it’s something I’ve never seen her do to anyone… She doesn’t let just anyone in.” The woman looks down again as she feels her cheeks flush, while at the same time immensely grateful Johanna has accepted her.

“Thanks.” She says, still looking at her feet.

“Hey,” Finnick starts, stepping forward toward the door. “Smile. It’s a good thing.” He puts his index finger under her chin and pulls her face up. He looks into her red-rimmed eyes. “Take care of each other, okay?”

“Yeah, I promise.” Katniss begins to look around the hallway, which thankfully, has been without a soul the entire time. “Listen, Finn— I’m going to grab a few things for her. Can you stay with her until I come back?”

He doesn’t say a word but gives a nod instead.

 

**********

 

“Get the FUCK away from me!” Johanna’s shriek carries into the hallway, where Haymitch and Finnick are speaking with her doctor, having left the psychiatrist alone to speak with Johanna about treatment.

“I’ve been asleep for nearly a _day_ , I haven’t even been awake an hour and you’re already fucking pissing me off!”

“Johanna, I understand your frustration,” The psychiatrist begins, “However, it’s best we start a course of treatment as soon as possible. I’ve met with a number of ex-tributes in various districts” Her voice is soothing and calm—very professional and rehearsed.

“Well fucking good for you! I don’t know you and I don’t want to talk to you, so get the fuck out of here!” Johanna is seething, pulling at her numerous IVs and stick-on monitors, trying to get out of the bed as fast as possible.

Finnick and Haymitch storm in after hearing the commotion; Finnick for sure, knowing that Johanna would snap any second.

“Stop it, Jo!” Finnick runs to her, making sure she doesn’t get out of bed.

“I’ll visit you later when you’ve calmed down, Johanna.”

Johanna respects Finnick and doesn’t fight back, but leaves the psychiatrist with a nice eye-roll as a parting gift.

“Calm down… you’ve been through a lot and you need to stay calm so you don’t stress your body.”

“She was enough to stress me! What the fuck is going on?!”

“You lost it during the simulation.” Haymitch states bluntly.

Johanna remembers the simulation vaguely—the water around her waist, the sparks flashing from wires in the dark room, then nothing.

“You had a serious case of hypothermia then had a seizure.” Finnick puts a hand on her upper arm.

“So you should really take the help from that head doctor” Haymitch starts, “Y’know, when you get your head out of your ass and realize you need help.”

Johanna feels as if the world slows down halfway through Haymitch’s diatribe, she is suddenly extremely aware of her body, even the slightest movement feels drastic. Haymitch’s words slowly filter through her brain, causing her already hyped-up emotions to turn into rage.

“Yeah, because I need to take advice from some washed up drunk.” She knows the words are harsh—but he doesn’t seem to be holding back, either. She and Haymitch have had this intense relationship—friendship, if it could be considered that—for years. They were far apart in age but were around each other frequently over the years, so they got to know each other’s history and quirks—what they did have going for them was Snow’s retaliation on their families. They had spoken about it once or twice—over drinks, of course—but most of the time their interactions were testy; irritable insults thrown over shoulders, eye-rolls. Johanna couldn’t stand him and his friends’ drunken behavior, how they would hang over women, their insistence suffocating. Haymitch was never as bad as his friends, but he lost someone he loved. He couldn’t easily replace it with a Capitol groupie. And Haymitch hated how Johanna could flip on a switch—how angry she could get over what seemed like nothing to him. He wasn’t a terribly empathetic man. But, for most people, Johanna could be seen in the same light.

Haymitch gives a hearty laugh in return—he won’t be adding kindling to the fire.

“Where is Katniss?” Johanna demands.

“She went to get some sleep after being discovered in here after hours and kicked out by doctors.” Finnick explains, “Mockingjay must really care about you, y’know.”

“What?” Johanna’s bottom jaw juts to the side and eyes squint at Finnick—she’s had just about irritation she could muster in a week in the hour she’s been awake.

“She’s been by your side, _was_ by your side all night.” Finnick says with care; a softer voice emanating into the room.

Johanna looks around the room for proof and notices the pine needle bundle on the nightstand, evidence of the fact—no one else could have put it there.

“If you’re not going to talk to the psychiatrist,” Finnick offers, “At least talk to her. She cares about you.”

“I know she does. And I will.” She tenderly fingers the bundle in her hand, pressing the sharp points into her finger pads, a habit she’s developed lately.

“I know you will.” Finnick gives her a wink, which is initially curious to Johanna. She assumes he’s figured it all out—he’s pretty good at figuring out secrets.

“Anyway, Loverboy,” Johanna tries to change the subject, “excited for your wedding?”

“Yeah—it’s tomorrow night. Propos and all, so you better be out of here and in one of those slinky numbers again…” He wiggles his eyebrows at her, jokingly.

“Definitely one of those… Maybe without the bracelets if you’re gonna do a striptease again” Haymitch jokes as he leans back into a chair. Sometimes he can have a killer sense of humor, Johanna thinks, knowing he doesn’t mean anything perverted by it.

“Wouldn’t miss it, Brainless.” A term of endearment for her. She reaches up to ruffle his hair when he swats her arm away. Even though they butt-heads sometimes, Johanna knows Finnick is always keeping an eye out for her, like a brother. Haymitch too, in a way—they do have more in common than she gives credit for; she just doesn’t want to admit that she, too, holds some of the qualities she hates in him.

“Alright, I’ll go tell Katniss you’re up. Until then, rest.”

“Thanks.”

Finnick rises from the bed and walks over to the door, near where Haymitch has risen from his seat.

“Y’know, that girl could live 100 times and not be good enough for her…” Haymitch says to him as they pass over the threshold and into the hallway.

“Just shut up, Haymitch.” Finnick bumps him with his elbow, which makes Haymitch cackle into the hall—the sound echoing in the wide hallway.

 

**********

 

When Johanna can hear Katniss’ fast, clamoring steps down the hall to her room, her body stands at attention—sitting up straight in her bed for her arrival. She’s still in bed, legs wrapped in the standard blankets and her upper body in a sweater and warming blanket—now that she’s been heated slowly, her bed feels like a warm cocoon; it feels just like an early autumn day, when the morning air has a fresh crispness to it. Johanna missed experiencing weather.

Katniss doesn’t even look into the room before she barges in. She stands at the door, breathless, looking at Johanna—who isn’t looking as bad as she could. She looks downright cute, Katniss thinks, in her large cable-knit sweater and blanket. She just wishes she were on a comfy couch instead of a stiff hospital bed. It’s as if there is this force field between the two of them, because Katniss stares for just a little too long, her feet planted just beyond the door, which has long clicked shut behind her. Even though the doctors said—without hesitation—she would pull through, Katniss felt an extreme desperation when she saw Johanna throughout the night; a feeling that only grew worse when she realized how familiar of a feeling this must be to Johanna—someone who has had to long for everything, many times over.

“You going to stand there all day and smile at me all day, Everdeen? I like it, but…”

Katniss takes a large step forward, kicking her toes on the corner of a chair on the way.

“Come here.” Johanna moves over slightly, giving Katniss room to lie on the bed with her.

“You sure? Feeling up to it?” Katniss holds the handle of the chair tentatively, ready to settle in.

“I need warming up—doctor’s orders, after all.” Johanna gives a ridiculous wink and whips the sheets back, inviting Katniss in again. Katniss kicks off her shoes before getting into the bed.

“You are so weird.” Katniss jokes at her, feeling her stomach clench with excitement and nervousness.

They lay facing each other, their knees brushing the other’s.

“So, how are you feeling?”

“Finnick and Haymitch didn’t mention anything?”

“Haymitch mentioned something about a ‘hissy fit’, but I figured he was just overreacting.”

“Well,” Johanna sighs, “he was kind of right.”

Johanna recounts the details from earlier in the day, making sure to tell Katniss everything she was thinking, not holding anything back.

The image of the two girls nestled in bed together stops Mrs. Everdeen in the hallway, who can’t help but peer in. When she notices how close they are together, Katniss rolls back in laughter, nearly off the bed, in response to something Johanna said. She watches Katniss’ hand travel over to Johanna’s and rub her thumb over the top of her palm and give her a soft, quick peck on the nose in between bouts of laughter. The sight shocks her at first, but in the same way she realized yesterday—her once round-faced little girl is now a woman. She was too preoccupied in her own sadness and self-loathing to see her grow up properly—the process she only sped up with her behavior. She was happy she wasn’t making the same mistakes with Prim, but longed for the days to repeat with Katniss. She looks at her now, smiling, strong, and determined; and recognizes that she cannot claim any of those qualities in a prideful manner. Katniss held the family together when she shouldn’t have had to. And although she put her through irrevocable hardships, she is grateful and proud of the woman she sees in bed with Johanna.

“But I was totally justified!” Johanna defends herself.

“You could have been a little nicer, Mason!”

“Imagine if you had hypothermia and a seizure and woke up to someone lecturing you!” She explained. “You’d try to rip out your IVs and monitors and try to stand on the bed to get some leverage, too!”

“Wait, you tried to _stand_ on the bed?”

“At the time it seemed like it would help me get out of it faster…” Johanna can’t help but join Katniss’ cackles and laugh at her previous behavior and thought pattern. “Cut me some slack! I’m damaged goods.”

When the laughter dies down, Johanna asks the question she’s been worrying over. A small part of Johanna knows that everything she has been working for has been banished—after her incident in the simulation, she doubts they would clear her to infiltrate in only a matter of days. But she needs to know. “How did the simulation go for you?”

Katniss suddenly feels tightness in her chest when she hears the question—should she be the one to let Johanna know she’s most likely going to fight? And that the Commander said it would be unlikely if Johanna were ready in time? But, she never knows what these people have under their sleeves.

“Well,” Katniss starts, “it was hard… but after you… when people in the room slowly figured out it was about testing weaknesses, everyone started thinking about what they may be tested on.”

“What did you get?”

“You can’t guess?” Katniss laughed, “Listening to authority. They had me go into a dangerous situation just to see if I would follow orders. Thankfully I was onto them already.” She finishes, tapping her nose, then Johanna’s.

“When do you find out the results?”

Katniss can’t lie, even if she were good at it. “Tomorrow afternoon.” Though she could probably assume how the situation will run its course.

“Do you think I stand a chance?” Johanna can’t look Katniss in the eye when she asks—you can always see the truth there. And Johanna wants this to be different too badly.

“I don’t know. I never know what they have planned.” It’s true, and Katniss believes it. It’s not a lie, at least.

They lie there a few minutes, running their hands over each other, making lazy patterns on skin, trying not to think about how they may be separated forever soon.

“When will you be discharged?”

“Depends on how I’m doing tomorrow, and if I commit to see that pretentious head doctor.” Katniss can practically hear a growl under Johanna’s voice when she says ‘doctor’.

“Good. You should.” Katniss smiles, “If only because I’m going to need someone to dance with tomorrow night.”


	7. Walking In Between Sunset and Sunrise

The lights in the hospital wing turn on slowly in the early morning hours like the rising sun. Johanna’s eyes flicker open when the light gets brighter and her leg moves to reach Katniss; it only finds a cold spot of sheet just before the edge of the narrow bed. She rolls over and smells the faint morning dew, a powdery, flowery scent on her pillow. She never was one to smell the flowers when they bloomed, and never thought Katniss to be the type either, but she smelled ever so slightly like a spring morning—when the morning dew would bring out the scent of the fauna all around. Her lids feel heavy as she hopes she smells just as wonderful, just as intoxicating to Katniss.

She awakes again to a soft knock on the door and the creaking of the door’s hinges. The room smells of burnt toast and fried ham, the lingering smell of what an orderly must have left in her slumber—it must be early, she thinks, if breakfast has only recently been served. The figure is nearly at her bed before she realizes it’s Katniss, followed by her powdery and floral scent. The younger woman comes into vision and Johanna begins to prop herself up, smiling at her arrival. Katniss sits in the crook in between Johanna’s bent legs and torso, facing her with a matching smile.

“It’s your big day! You ready?” Her voice is chipper and excited—Johanna can tell she hasn’t slept much since she had to leave.

“About as ready as I’m going to be.” Johanna deadpans. Even if she weren’t still sleepy, she doesn’t feel all-too-confident about her chances of going into battle anymore. A soft hand on her forehead stops her negative thoughts momentarily. Katniss brushes the longer bits of hair out of Johanna’s eyes with her finger pads, and then rubs her cheek with her thumb.

“You know things are going to be okay no matter what happens, right?” Katniss says it, still hoping for the best.

“Aren’t you finding out the results today?”

Katniss very nearly gulps. “Yeah, when you’re at your appointment.”

Johanna sighs thinking of the obligation and flops back on the bed—why does it even matter? Unless the uppity doctor clears her today, there’s no chance. Deep down she knows she won’t be going, and, that it might _actually_ be better for her not to go.

“You need to go, Johanna.” Katniss encourages, putting a hand on her side. “You should talk to someone.”

“You don’t go to one,” Johanna cuts off her staring contest with the ceiling to look at Katniss, “Why should I?”

“I should!” Katniss can’t help but laugh at it all. “We’re both fucked up.”

“We all are.” Johanna quips.

She sits back up and inches her hand toward Katniss, both of them looking intently at the proximity of their hands until they’re joined. Johanna’s thumb rubs over the back of Katniss’ hand as she looks up at her. She can feel her heart skip when their eyes meet, and thinks her pupils must dilate as quickly as Katniss’ do when she returns the stare. She swears she can feel Katniss’ pulse as she holds her hand, moving her fingers up to her wrist, touching her pulse point. The touch is gentle, but she desperately wants to feel more of her; she’s never felt so in-touch with another person before. She leans into Katniss slowly, grinning slightly as she sees Katniss lick her bottom lip, eyes focusing on Johanna’s lips as she awaits the pressure. It was nice to see her slightly flustered.

A deep sound emanates from the window as it’s knocked on—rather violently—making the two woman split apart quickly: Johanna pulling her hand away at the noise.

Katniss whips around. Coin.

“Everdeen. Follow me.” Her voice is stern, short and maybe even a little flustered. After all, it’s not exactly what she thought she would encounter when she went to track down Katniss herself. “To my office. Now.”

Katniss can feel the color draining out of her face—the throbbing in her chest and core cease. How much did she see? What does she want? She wasn’t supposed to meet with her for another hour. Will she hurt Johanna? The thoughts and questions race through her brain, firing too quickly to process completely.

“Mason.” Johanna locks eyes with the President, who has some unfamiliar pink in her cheeks.

She makes sure to look back at Johanna before exiting the room, head hung slightly. She’s not ashamed of Johanna or how she feels—but with so much at stake, she doesn’t want to put Johanna into any more compromising positions.

President Coin walks at a fast pace down the hallways, Katniss by her side. Those in the hallway seem to part like the Red Sea—backs against the wall, saluting with a thousand yard stare. Katniss isn’t sure how long it takes to get to the President’s office, but she still has so much left hovering in her mind unanswered; but Alma Coin is keeping silent, unquestioning.

They burst through the doors and directly into her office, bypassing a few inquiries—regarding them with a shutting door.

“Everdeen.” Alma Coin is looking down at her desk, unable to look Katniss in the eye just yet.

“Yes Ma’am.” Katniss stands at the ready—trying to keep her shaking hands steady.

“At ease.”

“Thank you, Ma’am.”

“I’ll make this short.” Coin starts, looking up at Katniss, though her head is still cocked downward. “Commander Paylor seems to think you’re fit for duty after your performance in the simulation. Is that correct?”

“Yes, Ma’am. I’m ready.” An incomplete truth.

“Good.” Her voice is still stern, a contrast to Katniss’ wavering tone. “You’ll be on Squad 451 with Mellark, Odair, and Hawthorne, among other District Thirteen citizens.” No Mason, Katniss notices quickly—but Peeta? “You’re a team of sharp-shooters—mainly—but we will also be using you for propos during the Airtime Assault.”

_‘Of course,’_ Katniss thinks— _‘couldn’t possibly go into battle without a camera crew, because that’s the sensible thing to do.’_ The revolution will be televised. She imagines Johanna back home, curled up in a blanket, watching the propos, wishing she could be in the Capitol. What she would give to stay back.

“Of course, Ma’am.” Katniss keeps her thoughts to herself.

President Coin looks at Katniss a bit too long before opening her mouth hesitantly. “Mason will not be joining us, as you may have noticed. Not after her incident.”

Katniss can feel her face drop slightly and the tears prickle at her eyes, feeling intense sadness and longing for Johanna.

“It’s a shame. She would have been a great asset.” The President continues, meaning every word.

Her sadness for Johanna turns into rage; she wants to scream, _‘It’s your fault she’s in there! You triggered her reaction! You caused this to happen!’_ But she stays quiet—now she needs to kill, and live, for Johanna. For them. Sometimes silence is the best protection.

“Do we have an agreement?” The President asks, as if she actually has a choice in the matter.                   

“Yes, Madame President.” She can’t help the slightly sarcastic tone coming out of her mouth.

“I’ll see you tonight at the celebration… with Mason?”

Katniss is slightly taken aback by her question, though, completely believes she would refer to such a joyous and loving wedding as simply a “celebration”.

“Y-yes, Ma’am.”

Alma seems to be taken aback from her own forward questioning and she reverts her eyes back to her desk, backtracking. “You’re dismissed, Everdeen.”

Katniss leaves without a word—she’s sick of pleasantries and obligation.

 

**********

 

“Do you know why you’re here today, Johanna?”

“Because I have to be.”

“So, you don’t want to be here?”

“Not really.”

“Why?”

Johanna gives lets out a long sigh, puffing out her cheeks. “I don’t see how this can help.”

“Well, even just talking about tragedies is normal for recovery.”

_‘Recovery?’_ Johanna thinks—what could possibly be left to recover? Her life hasn’t exactly been happy until now.

“You mean so I can get over them and forget.” She clicks her teeth defensively and gives a sharp, quick laugh.

“No.” The psychiatrist looks at Johanna, studying her body language. “Forgetting is not recovering. Living with the memories without compromising yourself is.”

Johanna looks at the wall, her legs crossed—the higher one bowing out more than usual, ankle shaking from side to side. Her hands are in her lap rubbing together in circles, her torso nearly folding over to her thighs, giving her an awkward, nervous, guarded presence.

“Why don’t you tell me about yourself?”

“I’m sure you could just go back a few years and watch me in my glory.” Johanna stares down the blonde doctor. “Then you’ll know how fucked up I am.”

“Do you really think those were your glory days?”

The question makes Johanna uncomfortable. She’s had to be tough for many years, even before the Games; but then she started lying to live up to the tough-as-nails façade she had created in her fight or flight moment.

“Of course not! It fucking ruined me! It ruined my fucking life!” She is barely able to get out the last few words when her voice cracks and the tears come flowing. It used to be hard for Johanna Mason to cry in front of others but recently and annoyingly, she’s making a habit of it.

The doctor hands Johanna a box of tissues, from which she takes a few—she has a feeling she’ll need them later, if only to use one to bundle tightly in her palms and rub her thumb over the softness.

“You’ve been trying to hold it together for a long time, haven’t you?”

 

**********

 

Johanna comes into the space she shares with Katniss, letting the door shut a little too hard behind her, bending down to take off her heavy boots, each giving an audible thunk when they hit the floor.

“Johanna?”

Katniss gets up from her card game on the small couch, wrapped in a blanket and makes her way toward the entrance to meet Johanna. Katniss notices the redness in her face, though it’s bent down and away from her. Her puffy, blotchy cheeks can’t evade Katniss’ observing eyes.

“How’d it go?”

“Ok, I guess.” She shrugs. “I don’t know if I buy it yet. My head is killing me.”

Katniss can see she’s on the verge of tears again and opens her arms to wrap the blanket around Johanna. Her arms are plastered to her side for the most part, but she’s able to bend her elbows to embrace Katniss, absentmindedly letting her fingers go under Katniss’ shirt and rub her finger pads on her lower back.

“At least you’re trying, Jo.” Her head rests on Johanna’s shoulder, her nose smelling the earth—a grassy smell, specifically—in Johanna’s hair. It reminds her of the wildflower grasses in the early autumn, when the sun and temperatures began to hinder the growth of the flowery life in the field. The early chill was evident in Johanna’s arms which were cool to the touch, making Katniss hold her a bit tighter. Yeah, she’s trying—but what will come of it?

“Maybe a shower will help you relax,” Katniss offers, stepping back, holding Johanna’s hands as her blanket wavers dangerously on her shoulders, threatening to cascade to the floor. Their faces are close together when Katniss freezes, the slight jerk sending the blanket off her shoulders, crumpling at her feet.

“You okay with that?” Johanna can feel Katniss’ question hot on her lips—literally—and she wants nothing more to be with her right then and there, to feel her body under her hands. The suggestion of the rushing warm water seems to be calling her name—but of course it would now that she’s associated water with Katniss, the girl that has her on fire. It’s funny how something seemingly small like the temperature of water and a warm, loving face can change the experience so drastically, Johanna thinks.

“Yeah, let’s go.” Katniss doesn’t feel any particular need to shower, but knows Johanna most likely still needs the support, and, she’s missed having her around. Her night alone in bed the night before was filled with readjustments every few minutes, huffing, puffing, and then, when she would finally settle down: images of Johanna in the bed with her, over her, kissing her, touching her, would enter her brain. It would be a blatant lie to say she hadn’t missed her.

Katniss leaves the blanket on the floor in the entryway and makes her way to the bathroom a little too quickly—who would guess next to being under the trees, in the shower was her favorite place to be with Johanna? It was bizarre when she gave it enough thought. She twists the handle and the water begins to rush out of the tap, and after testing it she switches on the shower—something Johanna hasn’t tackled yet, but thinks she’ll manage. She glances at Johanna’s face as she undresses, noticing that the blotchy look to her face has gone down a bit, but her eyes have turned into a light greenish blue—sea foam green, maybe darker. Definitely not bursting with their normal green hue, but more of an icy one, a faded memory of their brilliance.

Johanna makes her way into the surging water, followed by Katniss. The water feels like an incubator giving her a feeling of warmth she hasn’t been able to achieve over the past couple of days. She closes her eyes and lets the water rush over her blotchy and sensitive cheeks, causing them to sting slightly. Katniss, who has put a dollop of shampoo in her hands, begins to work them through Johanna’s choppy hair and tousles it, splashing some soapy water on her chest. Johanna tilts her head to the side and lets Katniss massage her scalp, nearly moaning at her slightly rough touch, feeling the suds slowly run down the center of her back.

When she steps back to let Johanna rinse, she watches the amazing sight in front of her.

When it’s Katniss turn, she simply takes a dip in the water to rid herself of the cold. She closes her eyes and tips her head back, letting the water soak her hair and strike against her collarbone. For as damaging water had been to Johanna, watching the water rush in between Katniss’ breasts and onto her stomach, dipping into her belly button before it makes its way downward, is very nearly a life-changing experience for Johanna. _This_ is therapy, she thinks.

When Katniss steps back and opens her eyes, with only the stream from the shower head in between them, she notices Johanna’s gaze over her body and moves forward without a second thought, planting her lips on the slightly shorter woman.

Even though her senses are being pummeled, just like the water on her skin, she makes sure to hold onto Katniss’ hips, leading her to rest against the wall.

Katniss gives a sharp inhale when her back hits the cold stone wall—better her than Johanna, she thinks. Johanna gives a small smirk between the frenzied, hard kisses. Their teeth clash together twice in the fury for their tongues to meet; the intensity making Katniss’ hips move forward near Johanna’s.

“I missed you so much.” Katniss whispers into Johanna’s ear when she brings her mouth to the side of her face, lightly running her hand on Johanna’s scalp, holding onto her short hair.

Johanna takes the opportunity to kiss Katniss’s neck, sucking slightly at her pulse point—something no one had ever done to her or made her feel before. She can’t help the moan that escapes her mouth; she doesn’t think she’s ever made that noise with Gale or... with herself. She never thought she should make noise, and Gale never elicited it in her. Everything felt rushed with him—she let him take charge until she didn’t feel comfortable anymore. He stopped—every time—but, now she didn’t want to stop. At the same time, her body still felt so awkward, so juvenile—where does she put her hands, for one? She seemed to just let them roam, and Johanna sure didn’t mind. Still, she was distracted by her own body, instead of tuning into Johanna’s.

Though, she really didn’t want her first time with Johanna to be in a shower—a place she’s not sure had the best environment for sex. Even in their short, frazzled kissing frenzy, the water had begun to run more cold than warm, though she swears the heat between them could warm their entire apartment. Damn water conservancy.

Johanna stops, as if she could sense the rushing thoughts in Katniss’ brain, her movements halted.

“You okay?”

“Yeah.” Katniss gives Johanna a quick kiss as a testimony. “We uh… we should get going, though.” Her legs feel wobbly as she exits the shower, hoping her knees don’t give out as she dries herself off. Johanna had nearly forgotten about the wedding after her already exhausting day—she loved Finnick dearly, but wished she could spend the rest of her day and evening in bed, preferably with Katniss. She thinks she could somehow muster the energy, then. Somehow.

 

**********

 

Katniss applies a small amount of makeup—mascara mostly—a little tip she gathered from Venia’s often incessant makeup ramblings: giving her tips and tricks as if she would make it out alive to use them. Sometimes the Capitol citizens could be so clueless. But, in that case, she was right, and Katniss would always think of her whenever she saw the tube. She wondered if anyone thought of her when they looked at something small, something meaningless to everyone else.

Johanna sat on her bed, for once; her ‘prep time’ didn’t exactly take long with her new shorter, choppy haircut, courtesy of the Capitol. With her attitude, she almost pulled it off. Still in a towel, she sat on the edge of the bed holding the bundle of pine needles—the forest always held so many memories in her mind: good and bad, but now pine needles will always remind her of Katniss—sharp to the touch, but inside, an unexpected and intoxicating quality.

“Zip me up.” Katniss asks of Johanna, who has clearly been startled by her silent entrance.

“Whoa, Everdeen, where’d you get that?” Johanna is stunned by the glacier blue color of the dress with its delicate lace details.

“Octavia was able to salvage a few dresses... I don’t know what in the world convinced her that it would be important to have these here, but they’re nice to have, I guess.” Katniss wasn’t one to like dressing up or primping herself, but she did like seeing Johanna in such a state, even if she was only clothed momentarily.

“Well, good thing she did, right?” Johanna says, still admiring the dress and how it rests on Katniss—it was clearly made specifically for her.

“Go grab one.” Katniss urges. “Gotta look our best when Snow sees us dancing, right?”

“Don’t know if he’d be able to handle us.” Johanna laughs thinking about the idea of a flustered President Snow—which would be funnier: the fact that his manhood grew looking at them cheek to cheek or how it grew even more wanting to annihilate them. Johanna gags at the thought and decides not to think of something as disgusting as Snow’s ancient staff again.

Kaniss brings a dress to the reluctant Johanna—a green strapless number that reminds her of the one she wore in the elevator—slinky, form fitting, but definitely easier to get off with its side zipper. Johanna takes off her clothes and steps into the dress, which Katniss pulls and zips up. She looks in the mirror, realizing while it’s a bit longer than where it would fall on Katniss, but she fills out the hips more.

“Shit, why couldn’t I have worn this instead of that awful tree dress?”

“Is that why you took it off so quickly?” Katniss looks at her, comically raising an eyebrow.

“You would too if you were in it.” Johanna starts, “But this… this actually makes me look good.”

Katniss looks at the two of them—beaten but not broken, pieced together in exquisite dresses they’re still not fit to wear; maybe they won’t ever be, but they wear them anyway. She notices the complementing pair of the green and blue together—the memory of how the sky peeked in between the leaves that day in the forest: the sky against the evergreen trees, the earth against the sky. Strong. Stable. She hoped Johanna could be the same—to be as strong as a tree, Katniss her Mockingjay, sitting on a strong branch. Johanna had been standing tall for so long, but a storm was coming and she needed to stay upright. No uprooting, no falling. Katniss had a feeling Johanna knew their fate already: that she would leave and Johanna would have to stay, but didn’t dare to ask. No, not now. Tonight, they would live as though it didn’t matter. As if nothing mattered except for love.

 

**********

 

The reception for Mr. & Mrs. Odair is loud and raucous—the music, food and drinks flowing freely for everyone to enjoy. There is the camera crew, of course, to record all the festivities. Katniss watches as Johanna makes sure to walk behind people to not-so-discreetly flip the camera off—a sign to Snow, to the Capitol, that she’s alive and not going down without a fight. Again.

Johanna makes her way to Finnick and Annie to offer her congratulations while Katniss makes her way to Haymitch, who signaled her over soon after she walked in the room.

“Coin talk to you?” Haymitch drawls out—with the amount of alcohol he’s probably already had, it’s surprising that he’s remembering to ask. He’s functional all right, Katniss thinks.

“Yeah, told me all about it. Sounds like it’ll be a lot of ‘look-no-touch’.” Katniss rolls her eyes.

“I know you’ll find a way into the action. You always do.” He mumbles as he turns away from her and to the drinks table.

Before she can even track him down and question him, she finds Peeta Mellark standing in front of her. Actually standing. In front of her. Hands by his side and not around her neck.

“Hi…” is all she can muster.

“Katniss.” His voice is calm, meek, even… more docile than normal. She looks into his eyes and feels a pang of sadness in her chest for who he was and what became of him, of them. “How are you?”

“I’m… good, Peeta. How are you?” She means it, too. She can see how Delly has helped him regain his original memories—she can see remnants the gentle baker’s boy behind his older worn face, and in the beautiful cake he has made for Finnick and Annie—his old handiwork reborn.

“Better. Delly and the doctors have been helping me… Paylor even says I’m ready.” Katniss gives a weak smile, not exactly sure if she agrees with the Commander, and wonders if it’s even her idea—she knows how Coin loves Peeta. Though she probably sees him as a weapon she can manipulate. “Does Johanna know she’s not going?”

Katniss looks over to her with Finnick and Annie, her head thrown back in laughter. “I don’t know. I don’t think she’s been told yet. But I think she knows.” She admits to Peeta, finally. “Deep down, I think she knows.”

Delly comes by and nearly pulls Peeta away—clearly someone who values her newfound job as his chaperone.

 

**********

 

A slower song comes on and the women seem to find their way to each other from across the room, leaving their respective people. The camera has been on Katniss nearly the whole night, which doesn’t change as it follows behind her, getting a good up-close shot of Johanna’s eager face when they meet. They hold hands at first, and then slowly glide their arms around the other’s waist, swaying slowly to the music. Katniss puts her cheek next to Johanna’s, her heart racing just being close to Johanna, never mind the seemingly prying eyes of the room and all of Panem. She feels juvenile again—her arms hanging around Johanna’s waist like a preteen boy’s would, whereas one of Johanna’s hands is placed firmly on her lower back, feeling the muscles move back and forth with their movements. She moves her hands until one wraps around her shoulder from behind and the other moves up to Johanna’s neck, brushing against her sensitive spot, and playing with her short patch of hair.

The camera slowly moves away to look at other former tributes and members of the rebel alliance.

“I love you.” Katniss whispers in Johanna’s ear as she closes her eyes, feeling Johanna’s pulse on her body.

“You have to go, don’t you?”

It’s the question Katniss wasn’t expecting but received anyway—Johanna knows she’s not going, whether or not anyone told her, and Katniss doesn’t even try to feign ignorance.

Katniss’ eyes well up recognizing the power behind the question; the realization of what Johanna has been battling with throughout her physical turmoil. Will she ever feel safe if she isn’t the one that puts an axe, an arrow, a bullet in Snow’s head? Recognizing what she has left to lose after losing everything else is all-too sobering a thought for Katniss.

“Yes.” Is all she can gather.

The music fades into another tune—a traditional song from District Four about a sailor going off to sea, only to be captivated by a siren, never to be seen again. It’s blaringly upbeat for the subject matter, but the women linger in their slow-dance posture for a few moments.

It’s Johanna who slides her arms away first, looking into Katniss’ eyes. They’re both brimming with tears—physical evidence of the concrete realization that they will be separated in the morning. One of Katniss’ hands stays in Johanna’s while the other falls to her side and Johanna gives it a grip before turning to leave. She leaves quietly, but when Katniss looks around she notices Commander Paylor looking at Katniss’ barely outstretched empty hand and back at her eyes—a guilty expression sinking her face. Hers looks like the face of someone who wished she could go back in time and change something.

It’s not until Katniss puts her eyes on the swinging door that she’s gone and after Johanna.

“Katniss, I need to talk—” The once-ardent Baker’s boy calls to Katniss, trying to make his way to her.

“Peeta. Not now.”

She almost feels bad for pushing him away once again, but he must be oblivious to the situation—she’s sure the entire room and Panem caught on the second the slow, soaring music came on and they looked at each other.

When she rounds one of the corners to get to her room, Katniss hopes she didn’t miss any morphling stashes; she doesn’t think Johanna would want to overdose, but she would want comfort more than ever right now. _‘She’s lost too much, and she has to watch me go.’_ She thinks. She knows she can’t promise her that she’ll live, she doesn’t want to make promises she can’t keep—Johanna reminded her of that once. She couldn’t be idealistic about this. It was—is— war. People die in war.

She opens the door to their shared space to find Johanna in her underwear, standing against the wall across from their beds—the richly colored green dress crumpled across the room—clearly aggressively thrown. Johanna slides her body down the wall, her spine scraping against the hard surface, her bottom on the cold floor, her knees bent up for her chin to rest on. Her knees stop her chest and lungs from heaving uncontrollably as tears develop in her ducts.

“I don’t want you to die.” She says all too simply without looking at Katniss. “He’s taken everyone away from me. He can’t do it again.”

Katniss kneels down next to Johanna, her bare knees feeling pinched on the hard surface. She wraps an arm around Johanna and pulls her to her chest, her hand tangled in Johanna’s hair.

“I don’t want to cause you any more pain.”

Johanna knows full-well the uncertainty that looms, but finds comfort in her honesty. It’s truer than an empty promise, no matter how hard she—they—want it to be real. But Katniss can’t save her; she can’t save everyone, possibly not even herself. People are going to die. And Katniss could be one of them. The thought fills Johanna with sorrow and dread; in the coming hours, Katniss will be gone and Johanna will still be here, disgustingly watching the footage on the edge of her seat: a wreck. If she didn’t make it out alive, Johanna thinks, she’d find a way to kill that bastard. Thrice over.

Johanna separates her head from Katniss’ chest and looks up to her, focusing on the tears running down her cheeks, then the wetness around her nostrils, and her puffy lips. She looks so worn, so beaten down—not like someone going into battle.

She looks at her lips once again and moves closer to her, placing her lips on Katniss’.

Johanna can feel Katniss’ tears sting her own cheeks, but she doesn’t separate herself from Katniss even slightly. Katniss pushes against Johanna with ferocity, opening her mouth and flicking out the tip of her tongue to meet Johanna’s. The feeling makes her want to melt into Johanna as she moves her body closer to Johanna’s, pulling her to stand up, her back to the bed they’ve shared. Suddenly, she remembers she’s in uncharted territory—feeling completely dependent on her instincts. They’ve done her well so far, she thinks.

Johanna’s hands moving her hair to rest over her shoulder snaps Katniss out of her nervousness momentarily. Johanna’s hands run up Katniss’ sides as she leans in to kiss the back of Katniss’ neck. The hairs on Katniss’ neck rise with the shiver that accompanies the lips on her lower neck. She can feel her nipples bundle up under her bra as Johanna locates the zipper on her dress and begins to lower it, making sure to kiss down her spine until she gets to Katniss’ lower back.

The dress falls to the floor with little movement from Katniss and she turns around to face Johanna, who places her hands on Katniss hips gently and places a series of tender kisses on her lips. Her hands eventually rise up Katniss’ sides again, making their way to the bra. She unclasps it fairly quickly and Katniss can feel the pressure it caused become exhausted as her pert breasts hang lower, free.

Johanna backs Katniss onto the bed, placing a leg between the woman’s on the bed. Katniss can feel her heart nearly burst out of her chest when Johanna places herself on top of Katniss. She’s never been this far before.

When Johanna bends down to kiss Katniss’ previously sensitive pulse point on her neck, she whispers in her ear, “Is this okay?”

Katniss nods—her heart may be pounding, but it feels so right—she’s more at ease than she’s ever been. She knows she’ll be safe in Johanna’s arms, for tonight. “Yes.” She runs her hands over Johanna’s bare back when Johanna bows down and begins kissing her neck, sucking at her pulse point. It feels like the wetness surges between her legs when Johanna sucks and kisses, though, she imagines the reality of its feeling isn’t as impressive. Her shorter nails scrape Johanna’s back slightly as she raises her knees to clamp against Johanna’s hips.

The slight scratching makes Johanna moan into Katniss’ ear—a noise that makes Katniss’s stomach curl with excitement—she smiles when she reminds herself of how similar it sounds to the noises she made that day in the training center with her axe. Like it was some strange mating call.

Katniss wants more of Johanna desperately and searches with her hands—first giving Johanna some pleasure with her nails on her back, running them up and down her spine, emitting sounds from Johanna and the appearance of goose bumps that her fingers run over. Her hands make their way to Johanna’s sides, then higher to her breasts. She takes them both, one in each hand, and rubs her thumbs over the sides and front—over the nipple—exploring what Johanna feels like, making sure she remembers every moment of it: every bump, every crevice, every sensitive spot. She will fight to feel this way again—every day forever if she needs to.

Another moan exits Johanna’s mouth when Katniss runs her thumbs over her nipples. Katniss takes this as a cue and begins to move her thumb faster over the nub of sensitive skin. She can feel Johanna’s body stiffen slightly and she dips her hips near her own, feeling the emanating heat. Katniss bends up slightly, feeling her abdominal muscles tighten, as she takes a nipple into Johanna’s mouth, first running her tongue over the surface, then making circles around it, taking extreme care to reach every surface. It’s the flicking that gets Johanna, though. Katniss starts off slow—up and down, then goes faster with Johanna’s hurried breathing as a cue. She decides to imitate what Johanna does to her neck as she sucks it into her mouth forcefully, isolating the nipple, and furiously flicking it with her tongue. She can feel Johanna’s legs shaking when she does this, which only makes her feel hotter, her pulse strong at her opening.

Johanna moves, taking her nipple out of Katniss’ mouth, as she puts her thigh against the top of Katniss’ still-clothed wetness, close to her clit. The sensation of even something flat against her core makes Katniss gasp and grip her thighs around Johanna, asking for more. Johanna reaches down and hooks her finger under Katniss’ underwear and pulls them down, rising to take them off completely and take hers off.

They’ve never been this close and naked before, Katniss realizes, though she has seen Johanna naked plenty of times. The sight never ceases to amaze her, and the one she sees in front of her is no exception—Johanna is standing there, biting her bottom lip, looking at Katniss hungrily. Katniss raises her knees again, exposing herself, inviting Johanna back.

Johanna comes back vigorously, now using her leg flesh up against Katniss’ wetness, letting it slip on her thigh as she rubs it against her throbbing center. She kisses Katniss hard, leaving Katniss with the only option to moan into her mouth, a quality Johanna loves.

Katniss desperately wants to give Johanna the same pleasure because it feels way too intense to have all to herself. When she goes to move her hands, Johanna shifts her legs to either side of Katniss and presses their hips together, putting their heat together. Johanna can feel her slick folds slide together with ease when she readjusts her legs. The feeling is possibly the most erotic she’s ever felt—feeling Katniss’ heat on her own throbbing core, her wetness still fresh on her thigh.

She dips her head down to meet Katniss’ plump breasts and erect nipples. She takes one breast in her hand and another in her mouth. When she traces a circle around the areola with her finger, she makes sure to do the same with her mouth. The feeling is overwhelming in the best way, Katniss thinks. When Johanna prepares to switch sides, she makes sure to blow cold air on the wet nipple, causing it to further cluster together, getting higher, which she didn’t think was possible. She flicks the wet nipple heatedly as her mouths works on the other.

The feeling is nearly enough to send Katniss close to the edge as she feels the inner walls of her vagina tighten. She makes quick work to slip a hand in between them and under Johanna’s radiating heat. She can feel a little bit of her wetness on the outside of her lips before she dips one finger into it. She works it similarly to how she would operate herself, sliding her wet finger upwards, moving the wetness to Johanna’s clit. She rubs the hardened bunch of nerves for a minute or two before Johanna growls, “I want you inside me.”

Katniss teases her only slightly by sliding her finger closer and closer to Johanna’s opening, which makes Johanna gasp and become still every time. She finds her opening and rings one finger around it, while getting another wet for later use. Johanna’s body becomes still and stiff with each time around. Katniss goes slightly into Johanna’s opening, feeling the walls around her two fingers contract every now and then. She continues the circular motion inside, only in up to her first knuckle, then, when her fingers are nice and wet, she puts the rest of their length into Johanna quickly, making her cry out and bend over Katniss, hands on either side of her head. Katniss can see the pleasure she’s giving Johanna, which makes her gain a new level of confidence.

She continues to work the fingers in and out of Johanna—first slowly, then faster. Johanna rises with the frequency and begins to ride Katniss’ hand, rocking her pelvis back and forth as Katniss’ fingers work inside of her.

When Johanna is near her edge, she wraps a hand around her body and puts it on Katniss’ saturated wetness, rubbing her clit side to side, which makes Katniss’ legs grow stiff—though she has done the same to herself, the sensation is completely different when it’s unexpected and from someone else. The slight movements create even more wetness to form between her legs, brimming at the edge, waiting for more touches.

Feeling and hearing Katniss’ wetness and slight moans, paired with her fingers working furiously in her sends her just over the edge, ceasing movements as she calls out in ecstasy. Katniss looks up at Johanna’s tightly shut eyelids and open mouth and places a hand on her chest as her walls grip her fingers and she rides out her orgasm.

Johanna, nearly breathless, climbs off Katniss and puts her body in between Katniss’ legs, moving them up so the fronts of her thighs touch the backs of Katniss’, leaving Katniss open and dripping. She kisses Katniss hard as she sneaks a hand in between them and continues her previous work, making Katniss gasp at the unexpected touch. Johanna dips a finger into Katniss slightly—giving her a taste of her own teasing medicine. She moves up and brings the wetness to her clit, rubbing it in circles with two fingers, listening to Katniss’ breath get heavier and quicker. She dips down and slips one finger in Katniss—moving very slowly at first. She’s sure this is the first time Katniss has ever touched anyone in this way, never mind be touched—she makes a mental note to take it slowly.

She moves the finger in and out gradually, which makes Katniss wimper for more. Her hands run up Johanna’s back and to her hair. She grips the short hair hard, which makes Johanna falter only slightly, in the most pleasurable way possible.

“I want more of you.” Katniss says quietly, wrapping her legs around the top of Johanna’s ass, pulling her center to hers, Johanna’s hand still between them.

“Tell me what you want, Everdeen.” Normally, Johanna would take the ropes, but this was something new for her. Clearly Katniss was experienced with her own anatomy—which made Johanna feel even hotter. She wondered if she ever thought of her.

“Faster. Deeper.” Katniss orders. Johanna wets a second finger and puts it in between Katniss’ tight walls, making her gasp. The walls retreat as Johanna goes in deeper, quickening the pace. Just as Katniss tightens the grip she has on Johanna with her legs, Johanna slithers out of her grasp, leaving Katniss’ legs on either side of her now, and moves down to where her face meets her working fingers. She can smell Katniss’ scent and begins to kiss and bite and suck at her inner thighs as her fingers keep pumping inside. Johanna feels Katniss’ hands in her hair again, only pulling slightly, desperate to be connected to Johanna.

Johanna’s tongue slips out between her lips and goes into the middle of Katniss’, the salty taste on her tongue. She slides her tongue up and down her slit, eventually flattening her tongue near her fingers and licking up, which causes Katniss to grip harder and moan out to the open room. She slows the pace of her fingers as she does this, until the strokes match up—in, up, out, down. Eventually the pace quickens and Johanna can feel Katniss tightening on her fingers, close to the brink. She finds her clit with her tongue and begins the same motions, going faster and faster until Katniss’ legs tighten with the rest of her body, enjoying riding out her first orgasm with Johanna. Johanna makes sure to keep the movement going slightly so she can ride it out as much as possible, feeling the walls around her fingers twitch with her body.

Katniss sits up after her body goes limp and brings Johanna’s face to hers, kissing her deeply, tasting herself on Johanna’s lips and tongue, eventually wrapping their arms and legs around each other.

“I’m going to fight for you.” Katniss says, a tear running down her cheek.

And Johanna knows.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, this is The End! Thank you for all your love, support, and encouragement throughout this process! Please leave feedback! :)


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